017: Memories of a Parallel Universe
by Rhiononon
Summary: He didn't have much in the way of memories. It seemed like he'd always been there, but his dreams were so vivid. So real. Sometimes they were more real than the world around him. Rating may change.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Memories of a Parallel Universe

Author: Rhion

Rating: Unsure

Summary: He didn't have much in the way of memories. It seemed like he'd always been there, but his dreams were so vivid. So real. Sometimes they were more real than the world around him. Most of the time he wished that hyper-reality was where he lived rather than this dull, cold, wet place. Where they were crazier than they claimed he was.

Disclaimer: Me no own, you no fuckin' sue. Or I'll beat you with my damn cane ***waves it around***

AN: Okay, I'm going to play with historical fact a bit here (um.. hello we do it all the time, right?) and use lithium as a mood stabilizer. It was used pre-1900's, then use was stopped for about 50yrs due to 'pharmaceutical companies not wanting to invest in a medicine that couldn't be patented' before coming back into use in 1949, and that was in Australia in some lab rat experiments. As this story takes place oh, I'd say 1949 or so, that means it wouldn't be in use _commonly_ as that didn't happen for another twenty years. Deal with me monkey-ing with timelines. Oh and it's post train wreck. I won't give more than that away. Oh and also, the etymology for the words 'okay' and 'fuck' are applicable in these years and timelines. I've done my research. And I shall leave it at that. So if you feel that some 'too modern' words are well, too modern, look up the etymology, because due to complaints in other places I have taken the time to do so on my own and been proven that my stance is the correct one. Not to be nasty, it just gets tiring when ppl don't have anything to back up such claims other than their own personal experience. Which is unlikely to be objective or accurate. In general.

Oh on a side note, I'm sorry if I'm sounding bitchy. I'm in Gainesville, Florida – aka Hell. Rotting, stinking _hell_. You'd be bitchy too. And in the course of the time I've been here I've been sick twice, I'm having man problems ***grumbles*** on top of being homesick etc… So yeah.

XXX

They told him he was a Spaniard who fled to Argentina, and that after the Second Great War was over, he had tried to return to Spain. And gotten stuck in Britain. But he didn't know Spanish, he couldn't remember it. Rubbing his hand over his face, Caspian felt the continual confusion wash over him. Who was he? And why did he have such strange dreams? Doctors at the veterans center told him he suffered from 'battle fatigue', that his recent memories must be so traumatic that he couldn't recall anything at all about who he was. It didn't change anything, their diagnosis didn't change that fact, couldn't change the fact that he was unfamiliar with and frightened by the simplest of things.

Which was passing strange indeed, as when a fight had broken out amongst a couple veterans who thought they were still in the middle of war, Caspian had jumped in. Laying about him with fists and feet he had knocked the soldiers out, careful to not injure them or strike their heads overmuch. The memory that when a person was struck in the head, often their thoughts weren't quite right afterwards had surfaced. At the time he had taken it as a sign of progress, but no it wasn't. So he wasn't a coward, he was capable of acting in a crisis with measured and swift action. Even so, the one time he had been escorted outside, Caspian had cowered as a loud blaring went by overhead. It was a 'plane', patrolling the surrounding sky near the 'air force base'.

Since then Caspian had refused to go outside, except onto a patio where he could stare out at a garden. Changing from his patient's pajamas, Caspian pulled on the loose fitting military uniform he had been given. No one had told him why they gave him military clothes, but they seemed to fit, even if he didn't fit in. Most of the soldiers, all injured veterans with various physical or mental 'difficulties' looked the same. Pale skin or ruddy, different bone structure, different hair, different skin from his, different mannerisms, different levels of intensity. Just – different. Caspian stood out, but it wasn't any one thing that he could put his finger on. Possibly it was his accent, or his golden skin that didn't lighten much at all in places where sunlight didn't hit, but it could also be his shaggy curly hair. A nurse had moved to cut it and without thought he had grabbed her wrist, twisting it and pinning her arm behind her back, yanking the scissors from her grip, throwing them so they buried with a loud 'thwack' in the wall. No one tried that again, but Caspian had given himself a bit of a trim when the hair around his face got to be too annoying. Buttoning the jacket to his uniform, Caspian looked around the small cubbyhole of a room he had been given.

He unsettled the other patients too much, so he had been given the privilege of a private room, and while it was the height of luxury compared to the long hall lined with cots, it still felt like a nightmarish hole to him. Glancing at the brass clock on the rickety nightstand, he decided it was time for his afternoon stroll around the dreary halls. Dressed as smartly and immaculately as those soldiers who patrolled the veterans 'hospital', he could almost pass for normal. The sterile cold white painted walls felt like they would close in on him, but he didn't show any of that, just nodded or saluted when he passed by other soldiers. It was easy to see why they had assumed he was a soldier though, his stride matched all the other veterans, the way he carried himself was similar, and his ability to know who, when and where to salute or nod came with ease. Shoving aside the memory of his hideously scarred body from his mind, Caspian made himself forget that that was another reason why they believed him to be a soldier.

"Hey Ten!" a familiar voice shook him from his usual bleak thoughts.

Repressing a groan of irritation, "Captain Obvious, to what do I owe the pleasure?" taking the few steps back to the room he had passed. Inside four men were playing cards, 'Captain Obvious' amongst them. The good 'Captain' got his name from his annoying habit of stating the obvious at the most trying of times. His left arm had been blown off, and Caspian wasn't sure if the concussion from the 'grenade' blast had addled Seymour Smythe's senses or if he had been that stupid beforehand.

"We're playing cards Ten," patting at the round table, indicating the white and red checkered cards.

"I can see that," sighing, moving further into the room. "And how does this affect me?"

Clearing his throat, "Well we have four lads to play."

Somehow Caspian kept himself from pressing his palms to his face. If only he could block out the idiocy around him, Caspian thought then he could possibly be content. There was a collection of snickers all around. Except from Seymour and Caspian. Seymour couldn't see the humour, and Caspian saw it but didn't find it all that amusing. Being baited wasn't on his list of fun and educational activities.

"Yes I can see that as well Seymour."

"Well you'd be a fifth," smiling openly.

Caspian didn't like those beatific grins, they reminded him of village idiots. And his own failings, his own inabilities. At least Seymour was happy being who he was, and knew who he had been. He suspected that the lithium helped with that a great deal. The lithium Caspian was given didn't do anything other than make him feel numb, so he usually hid the pills and threw them out later. In many others' cases the pills seemed to help, so Caspian tried not to begrudge them their numb joviality. Let them find comfort where they could.

Rolling his eyes, Caspian grabbed a chair, "Yes I would be a fifth, and yes I shall join you, but no I do not have any stakes to win or lose, so no I do not care who wins as it means nothing at all. Now, who is dealer?" plunking down, leaning his elbows on the table.

XXX

Dr. Carter's coat was always white, as well as his white starched shirt with its white buttons, and in the white box of the exam room, the much shorter white man, who also had white hair – blended into nothing. A bland little man in a bland cold little room. Long familiar with the routine, Caspian pulled his jacket and shirt off, then sat on the cot – which was also white, was nothing not white in this place? – waiting for Dr. Carter to touch him with his too cold hands.

The stethoscope was like ice where he was pressed into his chest, "Deep breath."

Inhaling, Caspian puffed his chest out as far as it would go, holding it.

"Exhale," the word sharp, "slowly!"

Obeying the commands lethargically Caspian moved allowing the poking, prodding, measuring and weighing that was typical of his weekly physical. The part when he had to turn his head and cough on command was the one part of the exam that he had to repress a violent flash of emotion – how dare the doctor touch him in such a manner? But all the soldiers went through it, and it was considered normal, somewhat humiliating, but normal nonetheless.

Clipboard in hand, button on the pen clicking as it was readied, "Now, Caspar tell me about your week. What did you do?"

Adjusting his pants, ignoring the intentional or unintentional misuse of his name, "The same thing I do every week. I get up, get dressed, go for a walk, eat, go for another walk, play cards, read, eat, go for a third walk, listen to the radio, play chess, eat, read once more, clean myself for bed, take my medicines, and go to sleep," listing it all out coolly. His routine never changed. "Repeat the same actions every day until it is time for my physical, come here rather than take my afternoon stroll, and then I go back to my regularly scheduled activities."

"Are you being cheeky?" washed out brown eyes tried to stare him down.

"Why waste my time doing something like that?" grunting.

Pen scribbling, making incomprehensible notations on his clipboard, Dr. Carter's voice was implacable, "I believe it is time you finally started seeing one of the psychotherapists. Otherwise since the lithium isn't helping with your rebelliousness," more scribbling, "my only recourse if they can't help you is lobotomy."

Biting his tongue, Caspian kept his expression neutral. Asking questions of Dr. Carter only resulted in two burly orderlies coming in, pinning his arms, while Dr. Carter pushed a needle into his arm. Which would result in Caspian passing out for several days, his body still unused to whatever was in the glass tube being forced into his system. And upon waking, Caspian would be sick for days, woozy, dizzy, and vomiting until whatever poison it was they forced on him ran its course. And all that for just voicing a concern or query.

This place was far more insane than they said he was.

XXX

Hoisting himself to sit on stone railing of his usual patio, Caspian scooted around, one leg hanging down the inside of the railing, the other tucked so that he was sitting half cross-legged. He liked this spot, it afforded him a pleasant view of the washed out green grass, with the pebbled walkways covering the mud. It rained so much here, the sound constantly coming and going, that he wondered how the hospital wasn't washed away. Rummaging in his breast pocket for a pack of cigarettes he tapped the bottom on his thigh, a dirty gray-white tube popping out. Raising the half crumpled package to his face, his lips nabbed the cigarette from the pack in what had become a reflexive habit.

Many of the other men smoked, and the scent had been familiar, niggling at the back of his mind. So he had latched onto the familiarity of the smell of pungent smoke, though this was nothing but a shadow of a shadowed memory. One of the doctors would go outside and smoke from a pipe, and that was far closer to what Caspian recalled, but whenever he thought he had a handle on the image it fled. Fabric rustled as his fingers fished into his pocket once more, searching for his lighter. The weight was quite heavy, Caspian had some sort of funding available, that allowed him the little niceties like having a silver high quality lighter, and decent cigarettes. Unfortunately it didn't afford him an escape from this place.

The documentation, which he wasn't supposed to have seen but had, on the details of his arrival here had ensured he would stay in this place a long time. He had been stopped at a department in the port of Avonmouth where he had proceeded to have some sort of meltdown. His possessions had indicated a military background, and heavy stress from the Civil War in Spain before fleeing to the country of Argentina. Lighting his cigarette, Caspian inhaled the harsh smoke, used to it now, before blowing a trail out his nose and mouth. Captain Obvious always said he looked like a drowsing dragon when he did that. Eyes unfocused, he watched nothing, while trying to backtrack his steps to the veterans hospital. After he had been restrained, calmed, and identified as a sufferer of extreme battle fatigue, he had been carted off to this hospital.

And here he stayed, being 'treated' because Spain didn't recognize his passport, and he was considered a bit of a charity case now. Stuck in this land he didn't remember, but it seemed like he'd always been here. There was no memory of his first day here, no place where he could say definitively that his memories began. Stubbing out his cigarette, the cherry scraping on stone a gentle rasp in his ears.

One of the white skirted nurses was wheeling out one of the amputees in a chair, the pebbles crunching loud enough for him to hear it from where he sat, hidden in the shadowed patio. The sway of hips drew his eye, somewhere between reflex and actual curiosity, and Caspian's thoughts stopped flitting around for a moment. Lighting another cigarette, he watched the straight line of her back, and how the curve of her hips were hugged by the all pervasive white fabric. Closing his eyes, Caspian banished his lascivious thoughts. Many of the soldiers accosted the nurses, their manners absolutely barbaric and unacceptable. And his own momentary responses to female presence weren't all that appropriate either. He was better than that, and while it was nice to have such a pleasant view of rounded bottoms or trim waists and breasts to raise his pulse, Caspian knew it was wrong to simply ogle a woman. Some long forgotten mother would be ready to thrash him if he had acted like that.

Of course he couldn't truly be sure of that. Or that he had a mother at one point to instill such beliefs. But it made him feel better to think that he had.

A nurse accompanied by an orderly came near the double doors, swinging them open behind him. Turning to nod at them once, knowing that they had come for him, Caspian took one long final drag on his cigarette before flicking it over the railing. It was a minor rebellion, throwing such a small thing as the butt of his cigarette into the bushes, but he did it as though it was totally normal. At least then it could be chalked up to his general strangeness and not to 'rebelliousness' or being 'difficult'.

Bowing just a tad to the red headed nurse, "Good afternoon Nurse Kerry."

"Hello Ten," she smiled, the vibrant crimson of her lipstick putting him in mind of fresh blood coming from lungs, so colourful and bright, "it's time for your appointment with Dr. Anderson."

The smile that had started to curve his lips froze, but he managed to keep it in place, offering his arm to the nurse, "Then shall we?"

"Oh you sly devil," she giggled, slipping her hand into the crook of his arm.

All the soldiers loved Nurse Kerry as she was actually nice to them. At least that's how it seemed on the surface. But Caspian didn't like her, not really, because he had seen the vicious looks she'd send to the other 'girls' for approaching her favorite 'boys'. Caspian simply played along, it made things easier, and staying on Nurse Kerry's good side was a good idea if he wanted to keep getting such a wide selection of reading material.

His boots tapped on the linoleum floors, Nurse Kerry's thick high white shoes clicked, while behind them the orderly whose name Caspian could never remember lumbered. The orderly was there to ensure he behaved and didn't try and get out of going to the psychotherapy appointment. True, he did wish to turn on his heel and go back to his quiet spot, smoke until he had to open the second pack tucked in the cargo pocket of his uniform, but he wasn't stupid. No, Caspian certainly wasn't, and they may think he was, because he had spied the syringe in Nurse Kerry's pocket, and he wasn't going to fight at all. Unless he absolutely had to, but it was unlikely, as they didn't do it without at least _some_ provocation. And he was the perfect gentleman – of course.

A metal door, with a glass square inset loomed. Flanking the door in the hellishly pristine white wall were two wooden benches, a deep mahogany. The colour was soothing to his abused eyes, and Caspian had to resist the urge to run to the benches and hug or kiss them thankfully. So much white, so so much white. Maybe he would go insane from all of it. From carefully measuring his reactions with the Nurse Kerry, with the orderlies, Dr. Carter or the other patients and veterans here… Then and there, Caspian wanted to scream. But the deep rich red-brown wood drew his eyes, soothing him instantly. Such a simple thing, but it reminded him to be strong. That outside these frozen familiar walls that there was more, more than his fears. Drawing strength from that knowledge, vowing he'd get out, get better, or whatever it was he'd have to do to prove to them he was fit so he could leave, Caspian strode to the office door absent of all trepidation.

XXX

Seymour was covered in blood. That was all Caspian saw for a moment, then his eyes focused, and he was moving forward, feet pounding down the hall, everything flying past him in a rush. Orderlies were trying to 'restrain' him, and the generally friendly soldier was thrashing. Other veterans turned their faces, not wanting to see, but Caspian hit the knot of bodies with a crunch.

Knocking one of the orderlies aside, arm snapping around another's neck, Caspian hauled backwards. Strangling the heavyset man, Caspian braced his feet far apart, shuffling back several steps, dragging the much larger man far enough so that he couldn't kick at Seymour. A chair was knocked over, and Seymour was shaking, body tensed, making gurgling sounds. Dropping the orderly, Caspian yanked his belt from its loops, shoving it into Seymour's mouth, and tried to cushion his head. But the damage was done.

More white clad men rushed in when the first orderly blew his whistle. Ignoring them, Caspian moved, cradling Seymour's head, concentrating on testing for sponginess in the young man's skull. As the fit continued, a nurse had come in, and was standing between Caspian and the orderlies, standing firm and immovable. Blood was still pouring from Seymour's nose, and some from tears in his scarred skin from hard shoes kicking him. In an attempt to stop the flow, Caspian struggled out of his jacket with some difficulty, always maintaining a firm hold on Seymour's chin, before he got the jacket off and was pressing it over the soldier's ruined shoulder and side.

"I think you've done enough damage," it snapped through the air when one of the orderlies tried to move forward. "Stay back for now, and someone get Nurse Kerry for goodness sake!"

No one made a move.

Gritting his teeth, Caspian roared in a battlefield commander's voice, "Go!"

The unnamed nurse knelt next to Caspian, helping how she could with Seymour. All Caspian caught was a flash of dark hair drawn back under her hat, and blue eyes, before he was too busy focusing on Seymour once more to pay further attention to her.

XXX

"Where does she get off?" it was catty, and Caspian slowed his steps, cocking his head to listen.

Knowing who was on Nurse Kerry's bad side was one of those tidbits that if he played his cards right would get him writing materials. Or maybe a new newspaper.

"She's just new Caitlin," warm and gentle, that must be Nurse Lewis, "and you don't know what the poor dear's been through."

"I don't care," huffing, "she thought she had the rank to pull that little stunt? Well I'll be telling that little floozy that my boys are mine. All mine. And she thinks she's going to be taking those charts, making those rounds. Susie has another thing coming!"

The two nurses rounded the corner, and they almost bumped into him. Ashamed to have been caught eavesdropping under most circumstances, Caspian only quirked a brow at duo. Caitlin Kerry gave him a hard look, but he smiled instead, showing off his perfect pearly teeth in his dark skin. What did she think he'd do with the information about her little vendettas? Other than fake a bit of sympathy about the fact that not _everything_ went her way? So, he'd been caught – it didn't mean anything at all.

Waving his hand graciously while giving his customary small bow, "A pleasant day to you ladies." Walking off, he tossed over his shoulder, "And be sure to give whoever is supposed to be a floozy my room number. I could go for a little bit of feminine company."

A scandalized gasp, and a brief hiss were all the response he got. He didn't care, he really didn't care anymore. Smiling for real for the first time in forever, now that that realization had hit him, Caspian went to his dark little porch to celebrate that piece of news. Here he had been telling himself that he didn't care, and now he finally didn't! Not one whit, not about what the nurses could do to him, what the esteemed Dr. Carter would do or what the orderlies could do. In fact – they couldn't touch him, not deep down, not where the memories were.

This time here meant nothing, nothing at all. He could say what he wanted when he wanted, shock whoever he pleased – Rolling hips caught his eye. Turning his head, Caspian tracked the motion, forgetting his forced mirth. Sure that the nurse walking out on the path with a soldier leaning on her arm as he used a cane to limp about was the same woman who had helped him with Seymour, Caspian couldn't stop his traitorous gaze. She was tiny, and from behind she was built like any of the nurses here – somewhere between enticing and muscular. There the similarities ended.

She was different, but he couldn't put his finger on it. Leaning on the rail, enraptured with each step she took, Caspian tried to identify why she seemed so out of place. Each step was measured, just like any other woman here. And her uniform was that annoyingly neat and perfect glaring eyesore that all the nurses wore. Sometimes he wanted to rip the uniforms off their bodies, to see if beneath that white cloth their bodies were any other colour as well. Not that he ever said _that_ sort of thing, not even in his sessions with Dr. Anderson. Down to the sensible support stockings she wore, the woman was like all the others. Yet she wasn't, and now he was going mad trying to figure out what it was that drew his eye so much.

As they moved around the garden, Caspian caught more glimpses of the unnamed nurse. But it was so far away, he couldn't make out her face. Then the pair moved closer in their circuit, and Caspian's heart started to pound. She wasn't overly beautiful, nor was she lovely. Something had scrubbed sweetness and innocence from her face, and where once she would have been the most breathtaking beauty to grace anyone's presence, now this woman was something else entirely. Despite that she was still pretty, not in the hardened perfection of Nurse Kerry, or in the soft way that Nurse Lewis was. It was just in her own way.

All it took was a glance to the side and she spied him. Caspian knew when he was seen, and his first instinct was to hop over the waist high rail and go to her, ask her name. The other told him to go. To leave and forget all of this foolishness. Some choices weren't worth making. So he made none, standing his ground holding her gaze until she looked away from him.

XXX

Dressed for bed, Caspian in his brown robe over his pajamas waited, his back braced against the headboard of his bed. Nurse Kerry would be bringing his pills by shortly and to make sure he was ready for lights off. His pen drifted over the creamy beige of his journal, doodling aimlessly keeping himself occupied for the duration. A flower began to form, with nine outer petals, seven inner and a set of thirteen very small ones comprising the innermost bud. It was a frequent motif in his drawings, random shapes that ended in sharp points then would twine out into winding round flares. All with that flower in the center of the nest of thorns.

Sighing, Caspian lifted his pen from the paper, unwilling to waste yet another page on such trivial contents. He was supposed to write his thoughts down, all of them, for Dr. Anderson's perusal, looking for clues as to how they could trigger his memories. It was unfortunate that Caspian didn't believe in the good doctor's ideas or trust them, so all that he wrote was edited. Sterilized and made appropriate for the psychotherapist's judgment.

Knocking on his door, then it swung open, "It's time for your pills."

It wasn't Nurse Kerry's voice uttering those words at all, and allowing his eyes to be torn from the page of his journal Caspian's vision pinpointed. The Woman as he had started thinking of her stood framed by his doorway, a tray in her hands. Her eyes were the strangest blue he'd ever seen, somewhere between dark sapphire and silver. No perfectly ruby lips or any cosmetics of any sort had been smeared onto her skin. And he still couldn't figure out what was so different about the Woman, because not even the absence of cosmetics could give her that oddness. She was Other, but of what sort Caspian would think about later.

"Hello," greeting her as he greeted few.

Surprise flashed in her eyes, "Hello. Are you ready to take your medicine?"

No he most certainly wasn't, and he was going to spit them out as soon as she was out of the room.

Nodding, "Of course, Nurse….?"

"Susie Fisher," gracing him with a small smile.

That didn't feel right – her name. It felt like a lie. But he didn't let that show, he rarely let anything show. So, he rose slowly, putting his journal aside, next to his brass alarm clock, making sure to make no rapid movements. He didn't want to startle her or make her call for an orderly.

"Well Nurse Fisher," taking the two cups from the tray, "I have a bit of advice. Watch out for Nurse Kerry. She does not handle change very well at all. There are times when I think perhaps it is she who should be taking these," gesturing with the paper cup with three pills in it, "and not I."

"What do you mean?"

Tossing the contents of the cup back, but tucking the pills into the side of his cheek, he made an audible swallowing sound. And pulled a face at the taste like he always did.

"You're supposed to drink water with that," chiding him.

Sipping the water, "Well yes. I find it is easier to just get it over with. As for Nurse Kerry – she does not like new things. Change only raises her ire until she either gets used to it, or things return to the way they were before." Placing his glass of water on the tray, "So be cautious."

She turned to leave, then paused, "Why do they call you 'Ten'?"

"I have no surname but the numeral 'X'," shrugging. Folding back his covers, not looking at her, "But surnames mean nothing at all, they can be so easily changed, is this not true?"

XXX

The straps bit into his wrists, ankles, legs, chest and forehead. Caspian wanted to fight. He probably needed to, who knew what Dr. Anderson's contraption would do to him? A needle slipped into his vein and something was shoved into his mouth tasting of rubber and leather. But he knew no more until he dreamed.

"_What do you mean she will not be coming?" he gaped at the trio. _

_The dark haired lad sighed, "She forgot."_

"_Forgot? How…" shaking his head, disbelieving, "how could she forget?" Waving his hands about, "There was so much she did! So much that she was! She should be here, should be amongst us. Why did you abandon her to forgetfulness? How _could_ you do such a thing?" _

"_Look," he was blond, blue eyed, "she's our sister. How do you think we feel about her not being here? She lost her way, and there was nothing we could do! We tried Caspian."_

_Snarling, hand slicing through the air emphatically, "It was a failure on your part. And now she is the one to suffer? From your damnable _pride_? Always with your pride, you are nothing more than a spoilt boy and never were anything more."_

"_She's our sister, and you're standing there lecturing us? Who are you Caspian to question what we did? Who are you to judge?" snapping, the blonds' blue eyes narrowed. "You weren't there! You didn't have to deal with –"_

Slamming to wakefulness from the dream, Caspian was drenched in sweat. In his arm a small hose was installed, the needle digging and wiggling where it was taped down to his skin. Panting, Caspian's eyes followed the thin tube to the glass bottle that hung upside down. He had been dreaming, but it was more intense, more real – and he remembered each word said. Almost. But it was dissipating like smoke. And he wasn't in his room, his journal wasn't at hand, he was in the monitoring ward strapped down and unable to move more than his head.

Croaking, "Nurse."

No answer.

"Nurse," mustering strength, working saliva into his parched mouth.

Rapid steps fell, and there was a cup held to his lips, water dribbling into his mouth. Swallowing it greedily, Caspian drained the glass. Fingers ran through his hair, smoothing it down, soft murmurings filling his ears. Caspian wanted to hang onto the images, to the words that he had dreamed. But he couldn't – all of it fled on wings of the nebulous.

Eyes focusing, he saw Nurse Fisher, "Thank you."

"You're welcome Ten," a brief smile. "Is there anything else you need?"

"To be unstrapped," jerking at his bonds with one arm, "and pen and paper if at all possible."

Shaking her head, "I can't do that. I could loosen the straps some, but Dr. Anderson left express orders for you to remain restrained."

He growled in irritation, closed his eyes, thumping his head on his pillow several times, "It is all fleeing. I need to write it down before it is all gone."

"Before what is all gone?"

"Memories or a dream, I do not know…"


	2. Chapter 2

XXX

Sitting behind a huge desk, ensconced in a chair that was throne-like and imperious, "So, Ten, Nurse Fisher said you may have remembered something."

"I cannot recall what it was," shrugging a shoulder, hands folded over his stomach as he lay prone on the too hard leather couch. "It slipped through my fingers before I could explain anything I saw."

Which wasn't entirely true. Caspian thought he may remember something, but he wasn't sure what. More like a set of impressions that were clearer than they had been before. He knew he didn't belong here, that creeping sensation that had nagged at him all his remembered time in the hospital had become worse since the electroshock. Unable to discuss this feeling with Dr. Anderson, Caspian bottled it up, because he knew what the doctor's thoughts would be on that. Lobotomy wasn't an enticing option, and Dr. Carter had already voiced his opinion that that was the best way to cope with Caspian, and he didn't want another person to advocate that at all. From the stories he had heard, Caspian decided having part of his brain removed wasn't desirable in anyway shape or form. So he kept his more 'deviant' or 'rebellious' thoughts to himself for fear of some drastic operation being committed.

"You prefer to go by 'Ten', let's talk about that then, hmm?"

Dr. Anderson used this tone, this manner that he was just accommodating whatever Caspian wanted so that he could help him. Caspian couldn't stand it, but didn't complain about for the obvious reasons.

Correcting him, "It is not a preference. That is just what people call me. I do not know why they call me this more than they call me by my given name. You people seem rather fond of what were they called?" searching for the word, "Ah yes, 'nicknames'. The fondness for 'Ten' is something external, something pushed on me. Personally I do not care one way or another."

"When you say 'you people', you make it sound like you're an outsider," Caspian didn't have to look to see Dr. Anderson steeple his fingers in front of his face. "Do you feel as though you're an outsider Caspian? Do you feel like others push you to do things, say things that are against your will?"

Well yes, he did. He shouldn't have to edit everything he thought so he could conform to some predetermined mould that the English thought was appropriate. Caspian had the distinct feeling that in other places in this world – say Spain for instance – wouldn't force him to fit into the same 'typical' and 'proper' mould that the English used. They had their own ideas of what was 'normal' there, just as people in other places had their own ideas. Unfortunately no one could agree across the board what was 'normal' because what was normal for one place, wasn't for another. The same thing applied to gender and classes. At least, that's what Caspian thought made more sense.

"I am told that I am a Spaniard," tailoring his words, making them fit for Dr. Anderson and his limited view of 'normal', "so by definition, I am an outsider here in England."

"They are no different than us," it sounded vaguely annoyed.

Grunting, "I have been reading the history books. It does not seem that this is so. At least according to my readings Doctor."

Let him ponder _that_. It wouldn't do any good anyway, because the man didn't want to see anything beyond his nose. Only wanted the comfort of his perfect little rows of data.

Continuing before Dr. Anderson could speak, "As I am not English, I never shall be English. That does not stop others from expecting me to act as though I _were_ English. And that would be where others intrude on my wishes and treat me in whatever manner they deem fit." Waving his hand over his head, dismissing any actual concern with this, "But it is of no import. I do my best to fit in with whatever is presented as I have no choice in the matter. My only choices are to be conventional, act as all others or as I am expected to, or to fight it. And fighting what is best for me," spinning out that line of bullshit was disgusting and left a horrid taste in his mouth, "is an aberration. Which would only lead to me not getting better."

"Ah, but you are an anomaly Caspian," his huge chair creaked, "you don't do anything the same way as other normal people."

Frowning, Caspian tried to figure out what he could possibly mean, "I do not understand."

"Tell me why you haven't tried pursuing any of the nurses?"

The question seemed to be out of left field, "I do not understand what that has to do with anything."

"You don't find them attractive, do you," it wasn't a question.

Snorting, "Some of them are attractive enough if you do not mind something that looks entirely fake." He paused, "Though, there are a few who are quite lovely. They do not look fake at all, merely natural. I find that quite attractive."

That seemed to surprise him, "You're attracted to one of the nurses?"

"Several are quite comely," shrugging, "and I am a man, and I have the natural response to them. Why would I not?"

"Oh," and he sounded so strange that Caspian half sat up, glancing over the armrest of the couch. The doctor looked utterly flabbergasted but tried to cover it up, "So, who has grabbed your attention?"

Sitting up, legs swinging around, "I still do not understand how this has any bearing on how I do not act normally."

"Just answer the question Caspian."

"Nurse Lewis has a sweet smile," conceding, "and a very nice… figure. I am sure that under most circumstances I would pursue her for those reasons alone."

"Anyone else?"

Going tight lipped, "I believe that that is sufficient Dr. Anderson."

Making a face, "Then tell me why you haven't attempted any amorous actions."

"It is not appropriate," shrugging, "as I have no intention of dishonouring them or tainting their reputations, I have not acted in such an unseemly fashion. Why do you find that so strange?"

Dry chuckling, "You are how old Caspian? Twenty two according to your files, and you should be married by now, yet you're not. So you should be looking…"

"How would you know if I was or was not married?" grunting. "As I do not know if I am or not, that means that I could potentially be betraying my spouse if I were to… chase skirts." Sneering, "I have some standards and codes Dr. Anderson. The fact that I cannot be certain of my marital status does not change the fact that there is such a thing as fidelity. I would much rather err on the side of faithfulness than mere… animal _lust._" Standing up, "I am no dumb animal to be led around by my baser instincts. Perhaps that would be why I do not fit in with you English. I have seen enough of you and your men here to see these infantile, dishonourable, and disgusting habits to know I would not wish to be a simple slave to my desires." Glancing at the clock, "My physical with Dr. Carter is in twenty minutes, and the session ended nearly twice that amount of time ago. I require a moment to breathe fresh air if you will excuse me."

Anger flashed in Dr. Anderson's eyes to be quickly repressed, "Of course. One thing _Ten_," stressing the name as though he were pushing Caspian intentionally into that hated mould, "take a few of these. On the off chance you _do_ decide to give into your 'baser instincts' like the dumb animal you are." Small squares were pulled from a drawer and tossed onto the top of his desk, "Ask Dr. Carter to instruct you in their use. We don't need you contracting anything."

Scooping them up, "What are they?"

"Prophylactics, they prevent the spread of disease," glaring.

Moving to put them back on the desk, "As I find it unlikely that I shall be debasing myself anytime soon – I do not need them."

"Take them," it was an order, "and you should try acting like everyone else. And use one. Preferably by the time of our next session."

Blinking in disbelief, "You are telling me, nay – you are _ordering_ me – to have congress with a woman? With a woman I have no intention of wedding, let alone maintaining any sort of relationship with? Are you _daft_?"

"Do it Ten, prove that you're just like everyone else here."

Snarling, Caspian pocketed the cardboard squares, spun on his heel and stormed from the doctor's office.

XXX

_The huge Lion was drowsing in the sun. Caspian wasn't clear on what he wanted to say, or what he intended to do. Hopefully it was the right thing. Approaching Him cautiously, deeply troubled, Caspian tried to ignore how bright the sun shone. Everything was gilded in golden beams, the grass a deep emerald and blue, reminding him of the sea. Wind made each blade ripple, and the air was sweet, somewhere between warm and cool, just the perfect temperature. Everything was perfect here. All was well. And nothing was out of place or made for sadness. _

_Yet there were things wrong, there were things missing and out of place. And in this lovely, wondrous land, this perfect paradise – Caspian was angry. Anger – an emotion he had thought left behind in the land of those who lived their brief lives bound to flesh. This… _disturbed_ him. Frightened him. Only Aslan would know what to do, but Caspian could not expect Him to fix everything. Man was not Aslan's creature. They were foreigners in His Country, His Land, His World. Accepted humanity may have been, but only in His World did He have any true control over them, and only there did He work at all times for all, which also blanketed the transplanted humans._

_Stepping lightly, Caspian continued forward, inexorable. He had a purpose, and Aslan could at least give him guidance or assuage the twisting of his gut. But everything had a price, which Caspian well knew. Aslan's help was freely given, because He loved all His children – Created and Adopted – but there was also a balance. And that balance required action bearing a price. Despite that, Aslan could at the least tell Caspian some of what had happened to cause all this. _

_Stopping several paces from the Lion, Caspian knelt on both knees, hands clasped before him, beseeching, "Great Lion might I speak with You?"_

"_Of course My Son," He rolled from His side, turning to face Caspian. "Speak freely and know that I listen."_

"_The Gentle Queen," swallowing, his heart feeling like lead in his chest, "she was not amongst her siblings."_

"_She is no longer a friend to Narnia," it was an unhappy sigh. _

_Blinking the tears that formed, "How could such a thing come to pass Aslan? She loved this place, loved these people, loved You. How could she no longer be a friend to Narnia? Susan bled for all, fought for all. Sacrificed for all." Voice choked with emotion, "Edmund tells me that she forgot. She lost her way – how can that mean she is no longer a friend? Are all who become lost to be discarded? Should we not guide those who are blind to the light, so that they are safe?"_

_Huge golden eyes slipped open and closed, the light seeming to intensify and dim with the movement, "Of course they should not be abandoned."_

"_Then why leave the Queen to this fate?" shaking his head, pleading. "Is there nothing that can be done? Someone must do something to guide her feet when she cannot do it for herself."_

"_And who would do that, who would take her hand and guide her when not even her siblings were able to?" Crossing His paws, Aslan tilted His great leonine head back, "The bonds of blood were not able to keep her on the path."_

"_Is it hopeless then?" shoulders slumping, Caspian fell forward, his hands digging into the soil, "It is wrong, it is dishonourable, no one should suffer like that in the Shadowlands! Least of all someone known so much for her gentleness."_

_The quiet stretched, Caspian pressing his forehead into the ground. He couldn't believe that Susan was to be left in the Shadowlands when she deserved access to Aslan's Country just as much as the other Pevensies. Yet it seemed like nothing was to be done. That just didn't fit with his sense of duty, his sense of honour. Someone _had_ to do something. And if the Pevensies weren't equipped to do it, someone else had to try._

_A gusty sigh, honeyed breath floating on the air, "It is not hopeless. And yes, it would be wrong to leave her in such a state."_

_Head snapping up, eyes wide, fingers digging into the earth, "Not hopeless?" Nostrils flaring, "What must be done?"_

"_Someone must go to the Shadowlands," Aslan stared at him long and hard._

_Straightening up, "Then I shall."_

"_You do not understand Dear One," He cautioned, "it is not a world like Mine. It is no place for you."_

_Face darkening, hands fisting, "And why would that be? If her siblings are unwilling, incapable, and uncaring why should I not be the one to go? There is no one else to do so it seems."_

"_Are you set on this course?"_

"_Will You send me if I am?" challenging._

_Sometimes life, or theoretically death, required decisive and bold action. Caspian was nothing if not bold or decisive, his upbringing had ensured that. But his life had taught him diplomacy and mercy. And strength that had nothing to do with his physical prowess. _

A voice called to him, waking Caspian up, "Ten? You really should go inside to take a nap. You'll catch your death out here."

Eyes flying wide, Caspian jerked, almost falling off the railing that he still sat on, his back against the concrete wall. Nurse Fisher was there in a flash, her hand going to his elbow to steady him. Regaining his balance, Caspian raked his fingers through his messy wet hair. Rain had fallen hard, driving on a slant, and it hadn't woken him at all.

"Paper, I need paper," hopping off the rail, brushing past Nurse Fisher.

"A memory maybe?" voice bringing him up short.

Turning, he saw her holding a pad and a pen, offering them to him.

Looking from the prizes to her and back again, he reached for them, hand hovering, "Possibly."

She gently pushed the items into his grasp, "Then you should write it down."

"Yes," accepting them, but he felt instant suspicion. Why had she been carrying such things? And why give them to him?

"Well?" she gestured, "Aren't you going to write it down? You should do it before you forget."

Licking his lips, "I…"

"If it'll make you feel better Ten, I'll go ahead and leave," Nurse Fisher smiled, but it was tight, like her feelings were hurt that he would think ill of her, "but just make sure you come in soon and dry off."

Eyes darting around, uncertain, "You may stay if you wish." Trying to smile, "Otherwise I may fall asleep once more, and who will be there to rescue me so fortuitously?"

XXX

The nightly knock came, and then in came Nurse Fisher. Caspian much preferred her presence now that she'd taken over for Nurse Kerry, she didn't look at him with that predatory gleam. Straightening up on the bed, Caspian closed the little notepad she had given him several days ago and put it away.

"Have you written much in it?" setting the tray down on his nightstand.

The last few times she'd come in she had stayed to speak with him some. He liked that, even if it was just her job. And even if it was probably at a doctor's behest.

Shaking his head, "Not really, no. A few sketches. A word here or there. I keep looking at it all, like the answers are right there. But," sighing, "I feel as though I am blind, that my feet have strayed from their intended path."

"Well I hope you find the answers you need," she handed him the glass of water first.

Reluctantly he took it, "So do I." Reaching for the paper cup of pills – he had to get those in his mouth first and tucked to the side, otherwise the water would make his mouth too slippery to keep from swallowing them before they were in place, "But I do not think it will happen anytime soon."

Before his fingers closed over the cup, Nurse Fisher's hand intercepted his, "Drink your water first, then take your pills. It keeps the nasty aftertaste from happening."

"I prefer my way," steel entered his voice.

Blue eyes level, steady as a rock, "Caspian, have you been skipping taking your medications?"

"If I have, then you would have to report me," hoping she wasn't bluffing. Hoping she wouldn't do something like that.

"What could make you not want to take them," she paused, "if… you weren't taking them that is."

"Have you noticed how the men here are… lethargic? Numb? Or friendly all the time?" whispering. "Or perhaps the pervasive…. Apathy. I am numb enough Nurse Fisher, things seem foggy to my eyes as is. If I were not taking my medications, would I not be more alert? More… myself?"

She studied him, then nodded once, the cup crumpling under her hand, "So it wasn't just me. It's supposed to help, and I think it does for some. But," she pocketed the wadded up paper, "I think you might be right. So, now that you've taken your meds, I'll let you finish getting ready for bed."

Biting his lip, "Nurse Fisher, thank you."

"You're welcome," her full mouth curved upwards gently. The touch was impulsive it seemed, her fingers moving to brush the hair from his forehead, "Get some rest. And you shouldn't neglect that other journal I think. Dr. Anderson's been asking about you."

Back stiffening, "Pardon?"

"I figure I should warn you, just like you warned me about Caitlin," fingertips so soft, the touch small but it sent heat through him. He was touched so rarely, he allowed it almost not at all. "A good turn deserves another."

"Does she make things hard for you?" wanting her to stay longer, to keep him company. Caspian felt somewhat human with the nurse around. Especially right now, with her huge blue eyes looking at him like that, like she actually gained pleasure from the time they spent together. Like he made her feel real in this unreal place.

"Sometimes," shrugging. "But it's not so bad that I'll quit. I need the job and I find helping soldiers makes me feel close to my brother."

"He is a soldier?"

A shadow passed over her face, "He was a soldier. He became one because… well – why did you become a soldier?"

"I imagine it was because I had to," Caspian got up, surreptitiously checking his door. It was mostly closed over, and as he never made any trouble at night, orderlies didn't stand guard over his room when a nurse was in with him. "As it was for him as well. That is the only reason to become one."

Fidgeting, a hand flew up to smooth a curl at the nape of her neck, "That makes sense. I just wish there was no need for them, no need to call anyone to arms."

Moving closer to her, "Where there is power, land, money or ego on the line… there will always be war or conflict. And so there will always be a need for soldiers." The dip in her waist was calling to him, and Caspian didn't fight it, much. Taking hold of her hand, making sure to keep the touch light and soft, "And where there are soldiers there will always be those in need of help, of a kind voice. To remind them that they are human and not the killers they are trained to be. That being a soldier is supposed to be about protecting hearth and home, not about making war. Only guarding against it."

"It's almost time for lights out," but she didn't pull her hand from his, "You're the last one in line, and you have a few minutes to yourself. You should take them."

Squeezing her hand, "Many of my minutes are to myself Nurse Fisher." Backing away, Caspian went to sit back on his bed, "Good evening, and may your eventual rest be easy."

XXX

Finding a somewhat comfortable position on the couch, Caspian turned the page of his book. In the background, he could hear Captain Obvious slur his victory cry, the game of poker leaning towards the soldier. He didn't tune it out, because Caspian didn't like how Seymour's health had been deteriorating. His muscles would twitch, his arm, or a leg bouncing about, and the shortest orderly always seemed to take offense at this. As though Seymour lost control of his muscles at will, and the squat orderly would go to 'calm' Seymour, as though he had something to prove. Caspian didn't like bullies, and had the distinct feeling that he never had.

There was the added risk that any beating that Seymour suffered could trigger another fit of convulsions. It had already happened two more times after the first. If only to himself, Caspian admitted he was worried by that, and by the fact that Seymour's pills had been increased to triple the original dose. At breakfast there would be a cup for Seymour, then at lunch, and of course before bed. Rather than getting better at all, he was getting worse.

Adjusting his long frame, scooting a shoulder to the side, Caspian peeked over the edge of his book, scanning the room. Thankfully the room wasn't quite so blindingly white, a washed out creamy beige painted the walls, and the linoleum floors were speckled with black over the dingy snow bases. At the entrance to the sitting room, a table with three men dressed in white uniforms sat playing cards, only paying a passing attention to their wards. So Caspian watched, doing a damn sight better job than those who were actually _paid_ to work here, making sure no one caused trouble by spotting it before it started and going over and giving a stern look to whomever may start anything. The other patients differed to Caspian, even though he made many uncomfortable. There had been an occasion earlier this morning where two men had come to him seeking a neutral third party point of view, and Caspian had given it of course. He didn't want any problems to crop up for anyone, and if him listening to their issues prevented that – then so be it.

"Oh hello Charles," a parcel was tucked under her arm as Nurse Fisher entered, and one of the veterans stopped her, "how has your day been going?"

harles scratched the back of his head as Caspian watched, "It's much better now that you're on shift Nurse Fisher." Beaming beneath his blush, "You really brighten things up."

Laying a hand on his shoulder, patting it, "Thank you Charles, and you boys certainly make my day worthwhile."

Listening with half an ear, Caspian unobtrusively observed, "Really?" At Nurse Fisher's nod, Charles blushed even brighter, "Well that's really swell!"

Caspian could tell that Susie actually meant it, and all the other patients could too, and that was why she was replacing Nurse Kerry in their hearts. He didn't like thinking of Nurse Fisher as 'Susie' but it was better than 'Nurse Fisher'. Neither name fit her at all, and when she was so gentle with everyone here, so giving despite everything – it confused Caspian all in all. She had become his new puzzle, there was a falseness to her name, just as there was to her being here. Susie didn't fit in here, she stuck out just as much as he did. And that in of itself was what made her so important to him now. Figuring her out was symbolic of figuring out why he was here and what he couldn't remember.

Drawn from his wandering thoughts, the object of them hove into view, "Hello Ten."

"Nurse Fisher," not bothering to hide the warming of his tone, "a pleasure as always," rising to give her his customary bow.

She quirked a round brow at him, "You needn't rise for me."

"One should always rise in the presence of a lady," keeping the place in his book with his thumb as he dipped briefly once more.

To that she laughed, "Oh I'm no lady!"

Unwilling to naysay her, Caspian kept his own counsel on that. For when she moved amongst the men, smiling, chatting, listening and nodding, so focused on each person – she was as regal and lovely as any gentle queen.

XXX

"_I never to7ok you for an artist," Queen Susan's voice came close to breaking his concentration._

_Caspian glanced up from the crisp vanilla cream of his drawing pad, "I am not much of one, but it does bring me pleasure."_

_Coming closer, the Gentle Queen paused as he made room on the bench for her to sit, "What sorts of things do you like to draw?"_

_Shifting even more, Caspian leaned the leather covered wood binding away from the thick cotton paper so that she could see, "Whatever comes to mind." Tracing a sweeping swirl with his blunt fingertip, "I see shapes and if I like their line I draw them. This is what I saw from that branch over there," pointing to a willow off to the side, "and I just… traced it. As I said," shrugging, "I am not much of an artist."_

"_It's still quite pretty," he allowed Susan to take his drawing from him so she could examine the seemingly meaningless twists, turns, circles and spirals, "even if no one but you knows what inspired it."_

_The coronation was over, and Caspian had the distinct feeling that this would be his last conversation with the Gentle Queen. And here they were wasting it on something so trivial as his talentless artwork. He watched as her eyes skipped over the page, thick and thin lines pulling her in. If anyone could say anything about his doodlings accurately, it was that once one started looking over it, that it was quite hypnotic for it relinquished the eye only grudgingly. _

_Reaching out he closed the book with a soft thump, "Careful or you will injure your eyes."_

"_Caspian – " he rose not letting the Queen finish._

"_I know my Queen," holding out his hand for her to take, "I know, and I accept for there is no other recourse. I can only attempt to be as graceful and wise as you and your siblings are about this. Then again," unable to stop the spillover of bitterness, "I have stood on my own two feet without anyone to lean upon for most of my life. As King why would it be any different?"_

"_Is that what you think?" her huge blue eyes gazing at him with sadness. "That you will be alone? Oh Caspian, don't ever think such a horrid thing."_

_Forcing himself to shake it off, Caspian tried to regain his aplomb – after all the Gentle Queen had come to say her goodbyes to him, he shouldn't spite such kindness, "As you say my Queen. Accept my apology, I was being rude."_

"_Caspian," she took hold of his hand with both of hers, staying seated as she gazed earnestly up at him, "you will never be alone. You will always have Aslan's Love, and you will always have your people. And," her smile was soft, small, and more brilliant than the sun, "you will always have the love, trust, and friendship of the Pevensies. And if all that isn't good enough – well poo on you."  
Unable to stop the laugh when she coupled the last with crossed eyes and a stuck out tongue, Caspian squeezed her hands gratefully, "Now if only I could have your wisdom!"_

"Oh that's quite lovely," antiseptic and honeysuckle filled his nostrils as Nurse Fisher leaned over his shoulder, peeking at what was on his drawing pad.

She had snapped him from the daydream, and he wasn't sure if he was appreciative or not for that action. There had been a woman, his wife possibly, for he had had warm feelings for the young lady. But he couldn't be sure. And he could recall nothing more of her other than strong hands, soft callous on her fingertips, and a voice that was able to sooth even the most savage emotion. It was gone, anything else he could have grasped from the memory-dream-hallucination. He couldn't be sure any of it was real anyway.

"Thank you," taking a deep breath, Caspian ignored the sterile alcohol scent in favor for the light and sweet that was also on Nurse Fisher's skin. "I am quite thankful for this," shifting the artpad against his knees where it was propped. Looking out over the gray-colourful garden from his perch on the railing, "It has been nice to have something to draw on. Now perhaps I shall be able to spare my journal so much of the abuse it suffers."

"I thought you'd like it," she nodded, seemingly pleased, "and I thought perhaps it'd be easier for you to draw those unseen vistas you gaze at for so long."

Brows beetling in confusion, "I do not understand."

Leaning her elbows on the rail, "You stare off into the garden so much, like you're seeing something there that no one else can. Like you know that there's something there, but it's just out of reach. It's as though you know the route back to some secret place, and you wished to leave here, but you don't for some strange reason. I do so wish I could see what you saw," her voice turned wistful at the last. Then she let out a nervous laugh, "Sorry, you must think me silly for such a flight of fancy!"

Studying Nurse Fisher in this new light, Caspian shifted on the railing, crossing his legs underneath him, uncaring of the precarious balance, "I do not think you silly." Gathering his thoughts, staring at her intently even as she avoided his eyes, "I think that you may be more perceptive than you believe. There are different layers to everything in life, different faces and actions for each person that we come across. It is possible then that," encompassing the garden, the patio, the hospital and themselves with the wave of his pen, "there is more to all of it then, is it not? We all have our secret places, and perhaps we just lose our way. Would it not make sense then if as we get older we forget those things that make us ourselves, those things that make life worthwhile?"

"You sound like my little brother," her voice became distant, and heavy. "He was very introspective and spent so much of his time thinking and dreaming those things that no one but him could see."

"The same brother who was a soldier?" keeping his voice easy.

Shaking her head, "No. That would be my elder brother."

"Ah," if their positions had been different, Caspian would have taken her hand. But sitting on the rail like he was, and her too far away left him unable to do more than just watch her.

Nurse Fisher stared off into the distance, eyes unseeing. But no, they were seeing a path to some secret place, some path that she could no longer walk. He wasn't the only one who searched for those hidden places that had made him who he was. Caspian wasn't sure right then if it was getting older that left people searching for that which they had left behind, or if it was something else entirely.

Opening his mouth to only snap it close, Caspian glanced away, following Susie's line of sight. The depth of the swirling maelstrom of the young woman's emotions was palpable even from where he sat, and what could he do about it anyway? Although she hadn't come out and said it, Caspian was sure that the young men she had mentioned were dead. That left her alone in this world, otherwise he was sure she would have said something of her family. She seemed the sort to speak of those who were important – if they were alive that is. As unlikely as it may or may not be, Caspian was sure he was correct in his assessment, that Nurse Fisher was utterly alone in this world, much like he was.

Seeking to distract her, "Would you care to accompany me in my afternoon stroll Nurse Fisher?"

Jerking in surprise, her dark sapphire eyes had swirled into even deeper a midnight, and at the corner of one luminous eye was a small shimmering crystal. The tear stayed where it was, newborn and not fully formed, like the words that came close to bursting from the dams that she had put up. All that and more Caspian could see, and it mirrored his own feelings of bewildered loss and aimless confusion. In the end Nurse Fisher smiled at him tightly and nodded.

"I think I could do with a walk," slipping her hand as though it were a once familiar custom of hers into the crook of his elbow after he hopped down from his perch, "thank you Ten."

"As always the pleasure is all mine Nurse Fisher," inclining his head.


	3. Chapter 3

AN: I'm a couple chapters ahead of this, but that's where I'm at and while I'm not stumped per se, I am at something of an impasse. I know where I want to take the chapter I'm working on, but phrasing things and keeping situations on par with how the previous stuff went is being a butt. I can't rush the plot, but I also didn't intend for it to be so dragged out. If anyone has suggestions as to some scenes that happen, feel free to tell them to me, I could use the mental kick in the pants. I may not use those suggestions, but hearing stuff sometimes jogs the ol'brain, or at least it generally does with me.  
If anyone wants to find out more on what I'm having problems with, I'm going to be posting a discussion to my lj with a major SPOILER ALERT on it. As in if you don't want a general synopsis of where the whole thing winds up - don't read it! As it's me though, you should be aware of the prerequisite happy ending, but it's getting to that point that is the important part of the story. For me at least. Hopefully for you as well.  
Personal thing: To those who've been absolutely wonderful to me of late, I thank you from the bottom of my little toes and up. Love ya'll.

XXX  
Chapter Three  
XXX

Caspian and Seymour were playing cards, just the two of them, at a small table by one of the dingy windows. In his hand the thin cardboard rectangles contrasted with his dusky gold skin, but unlike most things, the shapes didn't seem out of place in his grip. Selecting a four of clubs, discarding it, Caspian moved to replace the card with a fresh one from the stack.  
Seymour forced him to pause, "You look troubled."  
It came out slurred, like most of Captain Obvious' words now, and while it could have been an obvious statement, it may have been truly perceptive. On average Caspian looked some form of troubled, a distant faraway gleam to him, screaming out how Other he was. Something to how Seymour said it alerted Caspian to the honesty of his words in spite of all that.  
"What would I have to be troubled over Captain Obvious?" staying neutral.  
He wasn't of the habit of sharing himself at all on any level. Not here. At one point… probably. But not anymore, and certainly not with someone he couldn't be certain of. Seymour would mean well, but he couldn't be trusted.  
"Gee, I don't know Ten," a sharp bitterness entering the words, "what would you of all people have to be worried over?"  
Eyes darting up to lock with Seymour's, unable to hide his surprise, "I am not sure if sarcasm suits you."  
Quiet descended, and Seymour's momentary strangeness passed.  
It was Caspian who broke the silence next, "Is Susie a normal name?"  
"Huh?" Seymour gave him a funny look.  
"Nurse Fisher's name seems strange to me, is it a normal name?"  
He shrugged a shoulder, "Of course it's normal. Like Nurse Kerry, some of the boys call her Kate or Katie."  
Shaking his head, "You people are incomprehensible."  
Twenty minutes later their game was finished twice over, and Caspian got up to leave. He wanted a cigarette and some breathing space away from so much misery. Neatening up the cards, shuffling and cutting the deck for Seymour and whoever would join the injured man for another game, Caspian did his best to not think.  
As he was leaving, "It's short for Susan."  
Halting mid-step, Caspian glanced back, nodding his thanks, "We should play poker tomorrow."  
"Yeah, that'd be good."

XXX

"My week has been pleasantly uneventful," Caspian gestured to the journal that the doctor was going over.  
"I can see that," the book snapped closed. "Which I find passing strange indeed. You are twenty-two Caspian, do you not have the urge to action the same way most of the rambunctious youth have?" he leaned forward, "Or have you acted on those urges the way I suggested?"  
Grunting, Caspian rose to pace the office, "I do have the urge to action. And no, I have not availed myself of any female company of that sort."  
Dr. Anderson watched him like a hawk, the weight of his judgmental stare making Caspian want to pace faster, but he held steady despite that, "What sorts of actions would you enjoy Ten?"  
That forced him to think for a moment before answering, "Horseback riding. I miss that, miss the feeling of horseflesh and saddle as I become one with my steed. Running over hill and dale, going through the trees…" trailing off. His shoulders itched like there was a weight that was familiar on them, but the sensation passed along with the one that was at his hips. Hand passing through the air near his waist, as though his fingers were questing for a customary friend that rested there and was rewarded with nothing. Sighing, "Sailing, the wood creaking as the hull was slapped with water, the cloth of sail snapping… I miss those actions, yes."  
"And how do you know you miss those sorts of activities Ten?"  
Shuddering once, Caspian moved to sit swiftly, "I just know. As I know that the sky is blue, and that fire is hot, I know that those things are familiar to me and that I am pained by their absence."  
"Interesting," jotting a few things down. "Ten, how do you propose we get you doing these sorts of things once more? Have you set foot outside of the building other than the one time?"  
"I do not like… the sounds that the planes make," only just keeping himself from snapping. Getting a reign on his temper, "And even if I did, I do not see anyone allowing me access to a horse let alone to a sailing vessel. This speculation is meaningless."  
"That is untrue Ten, we're here to help you," Caspian came close to laughing, but made no move, not even a flicker of eye to betray his thoughts, "and you know it. How can I help you if you won't let me?"  
Shifting around, crossing his legs, eyes skipping over the books on the shelf on the opposite wall from where he sat, "I am… unsure at times of the… desire of others to assist me sir. As I have seen very little evidence and sign from Dr. Carter or the orderlies, my ability to trust that is tried at times."  
Caspian wasn't sure if that was a slipup on his part, or his mind playing one of its games of manipulation of those around him to protect himself… But it seemed to work. Dr. Anderson looked speculative, deep in thought. Allowing the doctor to believe that Caspian just needed some greasing to make him come around and actually trust the psychotherapist, Caspian sat back and watched. The fewer questions he was asked the better, the less he revealed the less he could have used against him. Each thing he said, was all aimed at preventing something from happening, what Caspian wasn't sure, but still certain things were imperative.  
Pushing away from his desk, Dr. Anderson rose, turning to look out the window, "My colleague, as well intentioned as he is, is limited in his own way. Much of what ails you Ten is in your head, not in your body. Dr. Carter doesn't understand that, while I do. He thinks that all that must be done to help you is to poke this or that body part." Moving around his desk so that it no longer separated them, "I know that to fix you I have to have you trust me. So that we can work together on the sickness in your mind."  
"And how do you propose I work with you," turning his own words against him, "when I am constantly under pressure to act in certain… manners? When I do not trust you?"  
Face darkening, "You should trust me because I am your doctor Ten. I know what's best for you."  
Drumming his fingers on his thigh, "I imagine many fathers say that to their sons, and expect the son to actually listen. Do you think it works?"  
Before Dr. Anderson could say anything, Caspian got up to leave. His session was over anyhow. Caspian and Dr. Anderson had learned much from the interview, but Caspian wondered if Dr. Anderson was even aware of what had been said and its implications.

XXX

He was prepared this time for the sting of the needle, and the taste of rubber and leather in his mouth, but Caspian didn't want another one of these sessions. It wasn't like he had any choice in the matter. Counting backwards from ten the way he had been told, Caspian fell asleep before the electroshock therapy began.  
"May I speak with you my husband?" Esther's voice was cool and sultry.  
Turning with a heavy heart, Caspian nodded, "Of course my love. What troubles you?"  
She moved to stand beside him, taking his hand and twining their fingers, "Nay, 'tis not what ails me, but you husband. Since they came you have not been yourself. This is a happy place of peace and all encompassing love."  
Raising their entwined fingers, he kissed her knuckles, "That it is."  
"Yet you are not yourself," Esther stroked his cheek with her free hand, and he reveled in the comfort her touch brought, "talk to me my dearest."  
"I have spoken with Aslan," trying to engrave the image of his lovely wife in his mind's eye, "on the fate of the Gentle Queen."  
"That is a sad thing indeed, to think she will not be coming here to her true homeland," shaking her head, her thick blond braid slipping from her shoulder with the motion.  
Looking down at their hands, a flash of guilt stabbed him, he would be leaving his wife behind if he took this task on as his, "She was blinded, and lost her way. Queen Susan needs a guide to help her find her way back to us, to this place, to where it is that she belongs."  
Esther's fingers were soft, soft as rose petals and they caressed him from his neck, down his chest to his belt, "Then I assume you shall be leaving to ensure she comes home."  
Startled, Caspian saw understanding and that distant not quite human love she always bore him shining in her eyes, "It is the right thing to do."  
"It is what you would do," red lips turning up in one of her lovingly reserved smiles, hands moving over the buckle to his swordbelt, "it is what the man I have married and born a son to would do. And so it is what you shall do my husband."  
Taking Esther into his arms, Caspian dipped his face close to hers, "I may not return. The Shadowlands are perilous. I myself could lose my way."  
"You will succeed, and you will come home…"  
"Esther!" choking on the name, Caspian strained against the bindings that held him secure. "Esther!"  
His back arched as he hollered over and over again, frothing at the mouth, Caspian twisted. The thick bands didn't seem to do much in holding him down, because they appeared to become more loose with each of his jerks. Hurried steps chimed on linoleum, but Caspian paid it no heed, calling out his wife's name. His wife, he had a wife! And he knew this!  
Roaring, "Esther!"  
"Caspian, Caspian," the voice was achingly familiar as it called to him, and he sensed a shadow at his bedside. "Caspian, please calm yourself, I don't want to sedate you…"  
Head lolling to the side Caspian's unfocused eyes found the shadow, "Susan?"  
But it was too late, other nurses had come because of his screaming. Nurse Kerry was descending on him, a syringe in hand, and she looked far more frightening than gentle Nurse Fisher. Despite his struggles having ceased, the wickedly sharp needle thrust into the meat of his forearm like a weapon and he gasped. Rather than let his last vision before the oblivion that was being forced into his body be of Nurse Kerry, Caspian locked gazes with Susie, seeing her shiver of horror as his eyes dimmed before rolling back into his skull.

XXX

Rough terrycloth swept over his forehead, soothingly cool and damp despite the scrape of the cloth. Sighing as he sweated out the double dose of toxins, Caspian tried to hide how miserable he was from Susan. Another wave of nausea washed over him, and Caspian rolled weakly to his side in time to dry heave. A bucket was pushed closer just at the right moment to receive the bitter, thick, sickly green contents of his stomach. Strong hands kept him steady as he coughed and gagged, and Caspian wanted nothing more than to crawl into some dark hole and die of self-disgust. Nurse Fisher stayed by his side as his body tried to purge out the evils forced on him by doctors and Nurse Kerry.  
"Do you think you could drink some broth?" once he had flopped back, wrung out as his room spun.  
Gathering the strength to speak, "My thanks Nurse Fisher."  
"Of course, it's my pleasure," and for that Caspian was also grateful. He didn't know how he would respond if she had said that her actions were nothing. They meant too much to him for her to discount them as common or meaningless to her. "I've got it right here," shuffling and a bit of tinkling of glass as it was removed from his dresser.  
Caspian did his best to scoot into a seated position on his own, but didn't exactly manage, "It smells wonderful." Actually it smelled horrible, but at the moment everything was too strong for his sensitive nose, and he could taste everything he could smell. And everything was heavy and bitter, so that when the air hit his tongue all he wanted to do was spit.  
"I know you probably don't feel up to eating, but," getting comfortable on the edge of his bed, "you really do need something in your stomach."  
Reaching for the bowl, "I bow to your greater wisdom and knowledge in this arena Nurse Fisher."  
"You're so gracious," verging on teasing, she inclined her head to him, with a little wink.  
Surprised, Caspian laughed briefly, "I do try ever so hard."  
Spoon held up to his lips, rather than allow him to feed himself, Susie sniffed primly, "And your efforts don't go unappreciated."  
It was difficult to accept Nurse Fisher's proximity momentarily as she leaned in to push the spoon between his lips, but he fought off the strangeness. He couldn't be sure, but the dream he had had told him that he had left a woman behind. On the verge of pulling away from Susie, Caspian forced himself to stillness.  
Sensing the change, "Is something wrong Caspian?"  
Shaking his head, and wincing at the mistake that was, "Not at all Nurse Fisher."  
"Please," the spoon chimed softly as she put it back in the bowl, "you are always so formal. You know you need not be so constantly polite with me."  
"I apologize, I am overtired Nurse Fisher, I," unable to stop himself he looked at Susan, "should try to rest some. It has been a trying day."  
Pearly teeth sank into the flesh of her bottom lip, drawing his eyes, "I understand. The electroshock does seem to put you all out of sorts."  
Swallowing, Caspian rolled over, presenting her with his back, "That it most certainly does."  
His body was traitorous, and the baser instincts that he had said he fought so hard to Dr. Anderson were making themselves known. Susie's closeness, his physical weakness, and the trauma of having electrical pulses sent through his brain made it near impossible to hold onto the fact that he really had remembered something. And it changed as well as enforced his earlier self-imposed laws. He would not break oath with a wife, though he only vaguely remembered having a memory of her, and she may have only been a figment, even so he wouldn't break faith with her. Nor would he simply be prey to his body's desires, needful and natural as they were, for he wouldn't pursue something with another person that he had no intention of honouring.  
Nurse Fisher, no, Susan was far too tempting. And he ached so badly, and she was so calm, how easy would it be for him to lay there and look at her pitifully until she leaned in to brush her hand over his forehead? From there he would not have to work hard to gain her sympathy and her lifted skirts. Even though she wasn't the sort, she wouldn't be on her guard against his charm. She trusted him to be honest and a gentleman. He could no more violate that trust than he could commit adultery. His body fought his mind, and betrayed her as it stirred strongly as Susan rose to leave. Biting his tongue while squeezing his eyes closed, if he turned to watch as she left he would speak. What he would say, he was unsure of that, but he could be certain that whatever he said would cause her to stay longer and tempt him further.  
"She must be something very special," the words were quiet, but they shattered his resolve like a hammer blow.  
Rasping, "I do not follow?"  
Tray and bowl made sounds as the so-called Susie Fisher moved, setting things away so she could leave, "I'm used to the men's looks, they look at all of us like that. All they want is a connection to something soft. They don't fight it." Her heels tapped as she came closer, and the waste bucket scraped as she moved it back to its place, "But you struggle tooth and nail. So, I think that whoever Esther is, she must be very special to make you fight so hard to remember her, and to ignore all those around you who aren't her."  
Until Susan had said the name, Caspian had forgotten. That was how easy it was for him to lose his hold on those memories, those dreams. All he was left with were impressions. In that moment Nurse Fisher gave him his life back, but it was only for a moment. An all too brief flash. Even so he was eternally in her debt for such a simple gift, and there would never be enough that he could do to repay her.  
"I am just a man," hoarse and he found himself studying the way her calves were rounded, and how her knees had faint little dimples on the sides. "And as much as I may crave something, I know when I could do someone only great injustice by taking what I desire so badly."  
Cleavage came into full view as Susan leaned over him, and the taste of her perfume wasn't foul in his nose or mouth. Lips that were over plump reminding him of the colour of fresh raspberries pressed to his sweaty temple. His fingers tightened on his bed linens, all he wanted to do was reach out and take hold of that silly little hat on her head, tear it away and pull her hair into waves so that he could bury his hands in the dark locks. It was all he could do to fight that short insane moment.  
A second kiss, this time to the side of his nose, "And for that you are more than a man, and I envy Esther for her luck in having you all to herself."  
Whispering, "Is it not you that is here, rather than she? Currently it is you who has me all to herself."  
"Silly man," pulling away and giving him a gentle pinch to his chin, "sleep well. You're addled with all that morphine still."  
Blinking owlishly at her, "And here I thought it was your intoxicating presence."  
"You're such a dandy flirt," but she was looking at him with that special light in her eyes.  
Caspian prayed that she left soon, or he would respond to that glow with all the heat in his own body in spite of his infirmity. So far he had managed, but eventually his resolve would snap. Recalling the fact that he was promised to someone only made things worse, not better. Now his body fought him, as well as his mind, and dare he say it – his heart too. But it was only because he was grasping at straws, searching for a connection to something soft as Susan had said.  
She held him trapped with her eyes for a moment more before she glanced away, "I'll check on you later. You need to keep your fluids up or you'll get even sicker than you already are. And then Dr. Carter will pump you full of more medicines."  
"I do not think I respond well to such treatments unfortunately," groaning, Caspian sank back further into his bead, thankful that she had broken the tenseness between them.

XXX

They walked side by side, Aslan keeping His pace slow enough for Caspian to keep up. Grass released its gloriously heady essence with each step that crushed the delicate blades. Caspian had decided on his course of action, and that he was willing to bear whatever the cost was for it. He had said his goodbyes to his wife and son. When he had made to speak to the Pevensies, he had found himself unable to say a word. What could he say? That he was going to go to the Shadowlands and do that very thing that they had been unable to do? No, that would be prideful and full of spite to do such a thing.  
So at the last moment, he had turned around and walked away. Even though he had ached to talk to Edmund about the land he would be traveling to, to learn more of this round world that hung in a vast sky that was not the center of its universe. To have gained the other's insight would have been invaluable. But he couldn't do it, and so he left to try and walk this path on his own.  
"My Son, this thing which you plan to do…" there was a gusty sigh, "it is a difficult thing. I will not say it is impossible."  
Glancing at the Lion, "Great Sir, there is nothing I can do. I have made my decision, no matter the cost to myself, I will see it through. I must."  
"Do you understand what you stand to lose Caspian if you fail?"  
Raking his hand through his hair, "It does not matter. My mind is made up, as I have said several times. Uncertainty may have room in my mind, but it has none in my actions nor my breast."  
"You shall be going to the Shadowlands. Every reality you know now will not be so there. Each thing you are familiar with will be gone. It is a place of torment to those from a higher plane. Are you still willing to go?"  
Caspian mulled it over for a moment yet again, making sure of himself. Queen Susan was not part of his family, at least no more so than the other Pevensies. Truly it should be one of them willing to risk so much for their sibling. But it was obvious that they hadn't tried hard enough, or had fallen prey to pride or despair in their own rights. Was he so much stronger? He shared no bond with the Gentle Queen, other than the blood bond of having been a ruler of Narnia. That in of itself should have been enough reason. It should have been enough for her siblings as well. But it had not been. So how could he think that he was strong enough to succeed where they had failed so horrendously?  
But he had lived many years. He had ruled many, many years. Fifty some years of being King, of having loved, lived and lost and experienced.... Gazing off into the distance, seeing the Pevensies playing as though there was nothing wrong.... "Tell me what I must do to go on this journey."  
After all - they were just children. Pride ruled one, despair another, and blind hope for the third. Those things combined had blinded each of the three to what needed to be done. Just children, with not enough perspective, not enough experience under their collective belts to have found a way to guide and protect their sister.  
Aslan's warnings didn't fall upon deaf ears, he had been listening. And he would succeed. Just as he said he would, even if he didn't make it back to Aslan's Country, Queen Susan would. He would ensure that it would happen no matter his personal cost. There had been many centuries of him being happy here, he had had his bliss. Now it was time for someone who deserved it just as much to have her chance.  
"You will forget Me in your mind, but not in your heart…"  
With a jerk Caspian looked around suspiciously. He was falling prey to these dreams more often now, and they were at inopportune moments that he fell to their spell. Blinking the fading images from his eyes, he tried to hide what had happened from the other patients in the room. No one took note, they were too engrossed with their own daydreams to notice Caspian's own mental wanderings.  
Susan came each night to ensure he 'took' his medicine, but no longer did they speak. During the day she would smile and pass him by, and he would nod, trying desperately to not watch as her hips rolled with each step as she moved onwards. For some reason he felt more adrift now that he knew a name from his past than he had when he had nothing to cleave to. Dr. Anderson had been on him for a month now to pursue one of the nurses, and that mated with his confusion over Susan with a healthy dose of guilt over this 'Esther' that he could not recall left him painfully ill at ease.  
Functioning so close to the edge of his tenuous control, Caspian wondered how much longer he could last before snapping. Whatever reason he had left was wearing away with the grinding days, and those things he used to distract himself were slowly being removed from usefulness. Seymour was confined to bed rest almost all day now, and Caspian had not made any connection to another patient so that now he was even more alone. With Susan and he no longer on speaking terms, though nothing negative had passed between them, Caspian only had his reading left to him. Writing had proved a temptation for an all too brief period, and drawing had little appeal either – it could be discovered and weighed and judged by others, giving insight into his thoughts that he didn't wish anyone to have access to. So now he sat, watching nothing at all. Sometimes he sat here in the recreation room staring blankly at the other patients, or he sat outside on his patio. No one came there anymore, unless it was to find him, Caspian had chased all potential companions away.  
A terse word or chilly look would send most packing, and now Caspian didn't even stand on propriety. Gone was the formally polite veteran, and in his place stood Caspian, a distant, silent man who chose being alone over everything else. Seymour had only dug past Caspian's defenses initially because he was oblivious to the barriers, and Susan had breezed through in her own way. The fact that she was Other was what had enabled her to weasel her way into his inner circle – but now she was shut out. For a moment, Caspian felt a pain in his chest, he wanted to speak with her, hear her voice. Perhaps she would go off on another flight of fancy, or they could talk about those strange things that made him think of walking sideways for some strange reason. But he didn't get up, he stayed seated.  
Despair hung in a heavy pall over Caspian, and he didn't even know from where it welled. He could be certain of the when of its creation, and it bore the name 'Esther'. Truth be known he didn't like the state he was in, it felt foreign, like it was something he may have once been prone to, but as an adult had managed to throw off the mantle of moodiness. The difficulty was that Caspian had no clue as to how to remove himself from the situation, to regain his normal faculties. If Seymour was more energetic, or if Caspian felt he could talk to Susan without fear of acting inappropriately, perhaps he wouldn't be in this state. But that meant relying on others rather than his own strength.  
Perhaps tomorrow he would do something, but at the moment he was too worn out. So he stayed seated and brooded, arms crossed, glaring at nothing.

XXX

"Caspian?" the door was cracked open, Nurse Fisher popping her head out.  
Craning his neck so he could glance over his shoulder at her, "Nurse Fisher, what can I do for you?"  
She seemed uncertain, a frown pulling at her face, "I was wondering how you're doing. We haven't spoken much of late."  
Pushing away from the balustrade, "I have not spoken much of late to anyone at all Nurse Fisher. Is there some issue with that?"  
"Oh," her eyes widened at his tone, and he felt a sharp stab of remorse for how curt he had been with her, "no, not at all. If you are well then, I'll take my leave of you. Good afternoon."  
"Susan," raising his hand, Caspian fought the desire to pull her out onto the patio with him. "Susan," clearing his throat and thrusting his hands into his pockets as he shuffled his feet, "I have been rude, I beg your forgiveness."  
"Caspian, my name's Susie," but she stepped clear of the door, letting it close behind her. Hand still resting on the handle, she looked anywhere but at him, "I don't like being called Susan."  
Raking his fingers through his hair, "Again I must beg your forgiveness. I thought that it fit you far better than 'Susie'. I meant no disrespect."  
They stood like that, not quite looking at each other as each tried to figure out the next move in their dance. Blaring noise whirred overhead, interrupting Caspian's thoughts, and he cringed, falling to his knees, hands clapping over his ears. The air was rent by the cacophony, and Caspian whimpered, eyes scrunched shut. Startled even further by hands on his wrists, Caspian jerked away, but the grip was firm.  
Tugging at his wrists, Nurse Fisher was prying his hands away from his ears, "It's just a plane Caspian, you're safe, it won't hurt you."  
Shuddering, Caspian snatched at Nurse Fisher, hauling her close to his chest, and pressing to the ground. Panting in terror, Caspian didn't know what to make of the 'plane' and its hellacious noise. He knew that others said that the planes wouldn't harm him, but he couldn't believe it. When he had listened to some of the other veterans they had given him proof of the lie that the doctors and nurses told him about the planes. It was from planes that death rained down from the sky, in great gouts of fire. Explosions would rock buildings, and stone would crush the hapless, all the while the turbines would grind as the air was raped. So no, he felt he had good reason to fear the planes. And he had no way to fight one, no way to prevent loss of life if the rain of hellfire fell, and that left him utterly helpless.  
Crushing Nurse Fisher closer to the patio floor, doing what little he could to protect her, he waited for fiery death to come down. Minutes later the sound had faded finally, and no crashes had come. But Susan's hands were in his hair and on his face, words echoing in his numb ears.  
"Caspian you have to let me up, Caspian wake up, you're safe," the litany soothing.  
Twitching all over once, Caspian forced his hold on her to relax, and he let out a sigh, "The plane has left? It is over?"  
"Yes Caspian, you have to let me up now," a desperate note entering her voice.  
Alarmed Caspian pulled away, scanning the porch, then over Susan for injuries, "Are you harmed?"  
"No, I'm fine," sitting up, she fussed with her little hat, then her uniform, "I just didn't want anyone finding us like that."  
Blushing at the realization of how they must have looked, "Yes that would have been rather compromising. And yet again I must beg your forgiveness for my actions. I should leave before I give offense a fourth time."  
"I'd really rather you not leave," it was soft, "I miss talking with you, you're the only one of the lads who treats me as more than a set of breasts."  
Wincing while he still knelt, face scrunching in chagrin and guilt for how his own thoughts would wander at times, "I doubt that that is how they treat you entirely."  
At least he hoped so, for their sakes. If someone were to be rude to her, Caspian wasn't exactly sure how well he would handle it if he were to witness it. The flash of ire and jealousy was hard to clamp down on, and had no right existing in his mind, but that didn't stop him. Making a face at his own irrational behavior Caspian stood, and made to assist Susan.  
"Oh they're not disrespectful," sighing, taking his hand with hers and Caspian hauled her to her feet easily, "they're just desperate as I've said before. They only like me because they think I'm pretty, and because I have these," gesturing to her chest, "not because I'm nice to them."  
Her comment bordered on crude, but it was also just the honest truth. If she had been a man the men wouldn't treat her the same. Or if she had been homely rather than comely like she was. Making another face, because he himself was acting much as the other patients did, Caspian berated himself. How much would he crave the gentle nurse's company if she had been less easy on his eyes? Then again, glancing at her once more, as though he were seeing her for the first time, technically she was far from being the prettiest of the nurses here. There was something to her manner that called to him, that and the fact that she was Other. So it had very little to do with what she looked like, the attraction he felt. But in all actuality she was still gorgeous, it was more than just her manner that made her so.  
"As lovely as your assets are," ruefully Caspian did his best to not stare now that he was so close to Susie, "they are not your only beautiful attributes."  
Laughing, "And to think I thought you didn't notice me at all."  
Caspian's face darkened, "That is far from the truth Nurse Fisher as I am sure you are already aware."  
It was her turn to flush, but she didn't move away from him, "I'm sorry Ten, I didn't mean… I'm sorry I shouldn't flirt with you knowing how you feel about things."  
"The flirting is not a problem," putting space between them, "there are other things that I take issue with."  
"Talk to me Ten, I miss it," the sensation of her hands cupping his was eerily familiar, "tell me what it is that you have such problems with. I won't tell, I promise."  
Taking a deep breath, Caspian held it a moment, gathering his thoughts. With a short sigh he moved to the side, tucking Susan's hand into the crook of his arm, "I feel that I must stay faithful to a person that may or may not be real. And if she is real, she may or may not live."  
"You said her name with a great deal of love," more wistfulness, and Caspian began leading Susan off for his early evening stroll. She followed willingly, and he let her lean into his arm, the top of her head not quite reaching his shoulder even with the boost of the thick heels to her shoes, "I imagine that she is real. There's no other explanation otherwise."  
Side by side they meandered through the halls, quietly spending time together. More was said without words as they walked in companionable silence than had ever been uttered before. How close Susan stood next to him, and how she lay her other hand over his forearm so that she held his arm with both hands, so close that Caspian could feel her heart beat in her chest where it was pressed to him. He accepted the gesture with one of his own, occasionally covering her pale slim hands with his as he kept their pace slow. At times he would open a door for them, gracefully guiding her through the opening as though they had done this every day of their acquaintance. Susan's belief in him, in his life before, and the way she smiled at him renewed his strength.  
When he had stolen enough of her company, Caspian disengaged gently, bowing low over her hand and kissing her knuckles, "May you have a beautiful evening Nurse Fisher. And I shall be so bold as to give you my heartfelt thanks for your time and your company. It has lightened my heart when I thought it could not be assuaged of shame."  
It didn't look forced at all how she dipped into a short curtsey, "And I'm glad of the time spent together Ten," it looked utterly natural and regal.  
That was a curious thing indeed, but he only noticed it later that Susie was capable of the same genteel civility he took for granted in his own actions.


	4. Chapter 4

AN: Well I've had some lovely ideas thrown my way, but I'm still sorta stalled. RL interference mostly, and there's a (Giant)Little! Caspian story that's almost done that I'm working on. Plus I'm wading through Lurking in the Shadows, doing a few touchups here and there on the main document, it seriously needs it. I use a fairly weird syntax in some of my work, and that in of itself is sometimes hard to clean up, and in Lurking it's particularly hard (mostly due to the sheer size of it, and the fact that it's well... not quite done yet), and if things go as planned... then I should finish the most recent chapter for it soon. Ish. Soon-ish.

XXX

Chapter Four

XXX

Nurse Kerry scowled at him, "You spend a lot of time with Nurse Fisher."

Not bothering to look up from his game of chess, "I spend very little time with Nurse Fisher in all actuality my lady." Getting up, Caspian circled the table, and squatted looking over the pieces on the board – he was playing against himself, and while true any way one looked at it he would both win and lose, Caspian intended on getting the most from the game. To each side he gave his all, attempting to outsmart himself without taking into account any of his thoughts from the other vantage point. Selecting a rook, "It is that I rarely spend time with anyone that causes you to notice me speaking with Nurse Fisher at all."

"You know she's a floozy," it was said like she was revealing a great secret. "I hear she got the clap from – "

Cutting her off, "As it does not concern me Nurse Kerry, I do not see why I would need this information. I am but a simple Spaniard and your English ways confuse me at times, so perhaps you could explain to me why it is that I should care if she is a floozy or not?" making sure to look at her with wide innocent eyes.

Actually well he knew what Nurse Kerry was doing, and what she meant by telling him such things. While it was within the realm of possibility that Susan was all that Caitlin Kerry was saying, it didn't matter. It was not as though he were some prince himself, or that any man here was perfect either. Not only that, it wasn't like he were pursuing Nurse Fisher in any fashion at all. He welcomed her company and her friendship, just as she seemed to honestly welcome him. That was reason enough for him to question Nurse Kerry's words and their validity. Caspian was no stranger to gossip, nor was he as unobservant as some probably thought – he knew what many of the nurses and soldiers did. Sexual escapades meant little to nothing to him, who was laying with who, the when, where or why bore no importance of any sort in his mind. So Nurse Kerry's accusations and attempt were done with little skill and even less information.

Nurse Fisher, as far as Caspian knew, not that he cared, was not party to any liaisons whatsoever. The rumor mill had Susan laying with him if anyone at all, while the tally of Nurse Kerry's conquests was truly… inspirational. If one was impressed by such things. Which Caspian wasn't. It could not be said that Caspian didn't approve what went on, because he wasn't one to judge – and he judged everyone here as human. Which implied that they had needs beyond the simple food and shelter sort, needs of a physical and emotional nature. Just because he didn't partake did not mean he thought less of those who did, except in Nurse Kerry's case. Spite made her ugly, and she had given into the evils of weak will. At some point Caitlin Kerry had changed and Caspian felt sorry for her rather than angry. Something must have made her the way she was now, and only time would tell if she were to change once more.

Waggling a finger, "You just be careful Ten, she's trouble."

Seymour shuffled in, leaning on his cane, "All women are trouble, right Ten?"

Casting a glare at him, Nurse Kerry sneered, "Shouldn't you be in bed Seymour dear?"

"I got enough sleep Nurse Kerry," beaming brightly at her, "and I wanted to see Ten. Isn't it swell Ten that I'm feeling good enough to play some cards?"

Lips quirking, "Indeed it is quite… swell… that you are doing well Captain Obvious. If you would take a seat, I am still in the middle of a game of chess."

"Well gee, who're you playing? There's no one here but you," Seymour ignored Nurse Kerry utterly as he clomped to the small table.

"Well I – "

"Nurse Kerry," turning to look at her mildly, "perhaps we could enjoy this conversation some other time on the finer points of English etiquette?"

Narrowed eyes and wrinkled nose over pursed red painted lips, "I suppose so Ten."

Once she was gone Caspian took the chessboard apart, setting it aside, discarding the game in favor of spending time with his friend, "How have you been feeling Seymour?"

"Tired," voice worn out the injured soldier twitched, looking off into the distance. As he moved his head, Caspian could see the pink and white mottled scars on his neck, "Very tired."

Caspian didn't know what to say to that. Seymour was certainly not himself, but perhaps he was more himself than he had been in the past – Caspian couldn't be sure. It was perfectly possible if Seymour hadn't been on the lithium that he would be this fatigued husk rather than the happy-go-lucky Captain Obvious that he was used to. Whether earlier had been a purposeful act or not, with Seymour rescuing him from Nurse Kerry, Caspian couldn't know this either.

"If you are feeling up to it I have a cigarette with your name on it," offering the only comfort he knew how.

"You do get some nice ones don't you?"

Rising, Caspian gestured, "Do you think you could make it to the porch? Some fresh air would do us some good."

"Yeah, sure thing Ten."

XXX

_"So I shall forget You? I shall forget all that is Narnia?" Caspian found himself curiously unafraid of this._

_"Yes, you will not remember Old or New Narnia in your waking mind," Aslan watched him, taking his measure one last time, "and never will you truly remember it. Not even if you give up hope, not even if you give up the small kernel of faith and belief in your heart. You will lose all that you know here, you will lose sight of Me, lose knowledge of Me."_

_Sighing, "Truly the Shadowlands do sound to be a place of torment." Squaring his shoulders, "But I will keep faith in my heart. I have loved You too long to ever give that up, to ever lose it. Unless it is wrest from my breast forcibly I shall never lose sight of You in my soul." Caspian maintained the Lion's gaze, "And I know that I am in Your heart, I know that You love us all. I am secure in this, and so take my knowledge, take my waking mind, because not even You can take it from my innermost places."_

_"Nor would I even attempt such a thing My Son," a large nose pressed into Caspian's palm. "You have made your goodbyes then?"_

_Nodding, "You know that I have."_

_"Much of Me wishes to dissuade you from this course of action," but the tone was only encouraging, "for I do not wish to risk you."_

_Smiling easily, confidently, lovingly at the Lord of Narnia, "But You desire both Your children to come Home. I understand," leaning in Caspian hugged the massive neck gratefully, "and I thank You from the bottom of my soul for this chance to bring my royal sibling to where she belongs."_

_"If any of My children were ready to succeed in this, it would be you, for as much as you have suffered, you have grown and kept your heart open to My love no matter how dark your life was…"_

_Inhaling the thick honey scent that lay heavy in Aslan's mane, "I need no memories to feel Your love, or to keep myself open to it. If it had not been for the Gentle Queen and her reminders when I had needed them the most, You would have lost this son of Yours at one point. But, now I shall endeavor to ensure You regain both of Your children safe and sound."_

_Taking a step back after basking for long minutes in His presence, Caspian nodded his readiness. Aslan blinked once, a crystalline tear forming at the corner of His eye that fell to the ground. From the moment the droplet touched the grass and soil, it radiated outwards in a ripple to lap at Caspian's boots. Pain roared in his mind, a horrific wrenching that made him scream out his agony. Through the wavering of his slit eyes, Caspian could see that his pain was echoed in Aslan's face, and Caspian forced himself to calm. To peace. He would not torture the Creator further by his weakness. Even if Aslan would still feel his pain, and in turn feel a horror of His own that one of His children suffered. At the least Caspian could ease it, and demonstrate his own love, his willingness to bear this burden without regret._

_At the last moment a brilliance filled his vision, before it was displaced by gray drab blackness. Streamers shot to the sky, twinkling, and winking down from on high. The last little bit of conscious mind that was Caspian the Tenth, King Caspian the Navigator wondered only briefly at the new star that hung high overhead. And then reality twisted and was displaced and Caspian was – _

"You're having a nightmare," cool fingers lay on his hot brow.

Gasping, tossing and turning Caspian whined in the back of his throat, "Susan?" He forgot that he wasn't supposed to call her that, that she was Nurse Fisher, that he had to be formal with her, "Susan please, I am… I am frightened."

His small bed creaked as she sat next to him, "What are you afraid of?"

"I have lost something precious or forgotten it," whispering, his vision swam as he got used to the darkness of his room.

"You don't mean your memories, do you?" a palm brushed over his cheek, and he could vaguely make out Susan's form through the faint trickle of light that came from his cracked open door.

Making no move to sit up, Caspian flailed, attempting to take hold of Susan's hand in his, "I am unsure. This… frightens me. I cannot bear to lose more of my soul, not when so little of it is left."

Susan sat with him, her fingers rubbing at the spaces between his knuckles, stroking the back of his hand and tracing meaningless patterns over his palm and wrist. She was quiet a long time, so long that he thought she must think him asleep. Or that perhaps she wouldn't say anything to his statement.

Rather she did speak, breaking the quietude gently, "I think more of you is intact that you realize Caspian. Your memories may not be here, but what makes you, you isn't what you hold in your head. At least not entirely. And I don't think anyone can take that from you."

"Will you stay a moment longer Susan?" shifting so that he could lean over and take a firmer hold on her hands with his, rolling to his side. If he squinted he could make out the glimmer of metal in the dip of her throat. That was new and it gave him a point to focus on, but he didn't bring it up, it wasn't polite. "You have never stolen into my room before at so late an hour," his mouth not quite checking with his head before it spoke.

Generally it did, but it was relatively harmless that his words were not edited. Rarely did he worry much when in Nurse Fisher's company. At least not for fear of offending her, but only for possibly reaching out in such a way as to disrespect someone who had been nothing but kind to him. In the end she rewarded him each time he spoke, each time he shared by answering him in the same manner.

"When I make my rounds I always pop my head in," a note of teasing entered her words, "so I guess you'd like me to steal into you room more often? Possibly at later hours?"

He wanted to tell her that yes he did, but he changed the subject to less dangerous waters, "What is your favorite colour?"

"Mint green," coming out in a curious murmur. "Why?"

"I wished to know what to think of you wearing in place of that infernal uniform as you sit upon my bed," scooting around, trying to find a more comfortable position. "It makes you look washed out. You should be draped in finer things, in clothes that let you shine. I would like to imagine you dressed properly rather than… swathed in cold sterility."

The shadow shifted and Susan leaned down over him, and he caught the scent of her powdery perfume on her skin. Tilting his head up, Caspian inhaled deeply when she kissed his forehead. Such a small gesture, and it was more meaningful to him than if she had slid beneath the covers nude next to him for the comfort it brought. She curled her arm over his head, and she stayed hovering so that if he moved his head to one side or another he would be touching her. Of course he didn't move, he only wanted to fall asleep surrounded, and it was like she knew this and granted him the safety he needed to do so. A second kiss was stroked over his face, this time it seemed to be more for her and less for him, and he didn't begrudge her it. They stayed like that until he fell asleep much later and he awoke only enough to register Susan leaving his side and his door clicking shut before slipping back into a this time dreamless, sleep.

XXX

The stone was rough under his hands where he gripped it tightly. It was tempting to jump over the railing, the drop was short, not much more than a meter or so and he would land next to the bushes. For once the sky was warm and blue, even if it still looked painfully washed out to him. And some madness seemed to have possessed his limbs and Caspian wished nothing more than to fly over the handrail and go and frolic in the garden like a child. All in all it was so blastedly _tempting_, the thin layer of fresh snow on the ground making everything new and crazily familiar. Even the fact that snow was white couldn't curb his desire. But in the end he held back, because while he _knew_ safety was an illusion, if planes were to come and drop their payloads a silly porch roof would not protect him, yet still he cowered away from open ground.

A giggle that sounded girlish and out of place came from behind him, "You look like a hound ready to slip his leash after he's caught the scent of game."

Turning Caspian glanced from Nurse Fisher back out to the garden longingly, "I like the new snow, it is a lovely thing to play in."

"Play? You don't strike me as the sort," she tucked her red knit sweater more closely around her shoulders.

Curious, "What would make you say that? There is nothing wrong with a bit of laughter and childishness. It is good for the soul."

Watching as she took the few steps to stand close to him, she leaned her crossed arms on the rail, "You're always so serious Ten, even when you jest. It's always so dry when you make light of something that I had thought that you were incapable of something so silly as wanting to play in the snow." She flushed, most likely at the realization of how she had sounded - like she thought him dull and lifeless. Caspian hadn't taken it that way at all, he knew Susan well enough by now that she only thought highly of him so he waited patiently for her to get her thoughts in order. "Oh dear I've gone and put my foot in it, haven't I?"

Raising a brow, "Not at all. Do continue to tell me how boring I am, I have not had my fill," purposefully adding a sonorous and serious cast to his tone and taking on a rueful expression.

"You really are a silly man sometimes," she swatted at him playfully, and he was rewarded by her smile. Cheeks pinching up and she seemed to glow ever so lightly, "I just meant that I thought your natural state was one of severity now. It never entered my mind that you could be playful. It's actually… nice. It makes me wonder what you were like as a child…"

His mirth came close to fleeing, and Caspian shifted so he could stare out at the sparkling garden. The sun had only just truly risen and the sky was so crisp a blue, not a cloud to mar the view. At least, not that he could tell, because the garden was walled in by the wings of the hospital, and that cut off most of what he could see. What _had_ he been like as a child? Caspian couldn't answer Susan and that would bother him under most circumstances, but he thought he could choose what he had been like, could make it up, if only it would bring a smile to her full lips. Smile she did rather than let the pensive twist enter her visage as it usually did when she stared out into the garden.

Deciding to see how much more he could make her smile, Caspian hopped onto his usual perch, but faced fully outwards, his legs hanging outside the porch and swinging back and forth like he were a child once more, "I was most likely a ruffian like most boys."

"No," she shook her head, "I don't think so. I think you probably sat off to the side watching everything curiously and when no one was looking you would scamper off like a squirrel."

Giving her a funny look, "And why would I do that?"

"Because Peter was a 'ruffian' as you say, and you're nothing like he was," putting name to one of the brothers she almost never spoke of, but was never far from her thoughts.

Impulsively Caspian reached out, running the side of his finger down her cheek, "And so I am squirrel like and would scamper about." Swallowing, Caspian used his legs to push off the porch, and he twisted as he landed between the bush and the wall of the patio, "And scurry. Must I scurry?" cocking his head worriedly.

Caspian thought it wasn't so bad, he was still in the shadow of the porch, he wasn't on open ground. Not exactly. There was a thin strip of dirt between the bushes of the garden and the foundation of the hospital and that was where he stood, pressed close to the stone. He was tall enough that though his feet were on ground and the patio was raised up, his eyes still topped the balustrade. Taking a deep breath Caspian took a step backwards and to the side, so if he leaned backwards he could see more of the sky than he had in all the time he'd been in the veterans hospital.

"Caspian! What _are_ you doing?" standing on her toes, Nurse Fisher leaned over the rail. "Are you… are you quite alright Caspian?"

Breathing shallowly, Caspian had only thought to make her smile more and to do a bit of the gamboling about he so desired to do… But he miscalculated, he didn't feel safe where he was, and Caspian couldn't think. He had planned on running back and forth, possibly making a snowball and throwing it at a tree trunk. His pulse was throbbing, and he was trying to figure out how to get back on the porch without having to move a single muscle.

"Caspian?" she was becoming alarmed he could hear it, but he couldn't respond. "Caspian, I'm coming," and she had to wiggle and hop to get up onto the rail she was so small, the nearest entrance to the garden itself was inside the hospital and would entail Susan leaving him for long minutes. That appeared to be something she was unwilling to do, and he only just registered that.

Snapping out of his reverie enough to reach up and steady Nurse Fisher, Caspian shuddered. He was so far gone he didn't even think to glance away at the flash of leg or the sight of her under things. Later on he would berate himself for such uncouthness, but at the moment all he could do was hold tight to her waist as Susan maneuvered to sit on the handrail before jumping down. Shivering, Caspian kept his grip tight on her waist, half expecting a plane to fly by overhead. It was a small boon that no such thing happened, and after a time Caspian calmed.

"Are you back?" it was soft.

Nodding, Caspian let his gaze focus on Susie, "Yes. I am… sorry I only wanted to –"

A finger pressed over his lips, stilling them, "It's fine. I appreciate it, but do you know what I'd really like right about now?"

"Anything you like my lady," mumbling, praying that he could deliver on whatever it was that she would desire.

"Do you think we could walk to the door? I don't fancy climbing up the way I came," her nose scrunched as she grinned impishly, "because this time you may actually take a look at my knickers and what sort of girl would that make me then?"

Clearing his throat, "It would make you no particular sort of girl, but it would make me very much a human man, with very human failings if I were to take a peek at your under things." Glancing away, "I assure you I would do no such thing."

She rolled her eyes at him and made a face, "And what sort of girl would it make me if I'm a bit offended if you wouldn't take such a liberty?"

To that he had no response, his mouth opened and closed a few times before snapping shut audibly. Coughing into his fist, trying to regain his balance, "Ah…"

"Alright then," she hooked her arm with his and began hauling him to the door, "I'll try not to have my feelings hurt that you've no interest in me whatsoever…"

He didn't even notice the fact that she was teasing him, Caspian only heard that she thought he found her unattractive. All in all Caspian had thought he hid such a fact from her only very poorly if at all and that he had also been somewhat upfront about it in his own way, but it was possible that he had been too circumspect. Then again Caspian didn't wish to violate his oath to Esther. Pausing, Caspian realized he'd almost entirely forgotten about the fact that he wasn't free to pursue Nurse Fisher for more than one reason. Up until he had recalled Esther's name, Caspian hadn't made any overtures to Susan because of his mental instability. Now he had to be doubly careful, it was not just Susan Fisher he was protecting, but Esther – even if he couldn't remember a single damn thing about her as a person.

Digging in his heels, Caspian pulled them to a stop, "Nurse Fisher I feel I must clarify things for you, as it seems that I have not been as clear as I believed."

"Excuse me?" surprised, she halted only reluctantly.

Uncomfortable, Caspian shuffled, squared his shoulders then forged on, "My mental state is not the most ideal and so that is partially why I have not pursued anything of any sort with anyone." There, he got that part out of the way, it wasn't so bad at all… Onto the hard part, the part that he felt should be the most important and always on his mind, yet for some reason – wasn't, "And then there is my possible marital status. Esther – I may not remember anything about her at all, but as you claim that I said her name with so much emotion… I cannot bear the thought of dishonouring a woman I was promised to. So that would be why I have not made my attraction to you more clear, for it is inappropriate for me to act in such a manner. But," looking her straight in the eye, "it is not because I do not care for your company or your looks, but merely my own personal morals that prevent me from doing so…"

Shoulders shaking, Susan ducked her head, and Caspian became exceedingly distressed – he hadn't meant to upset her! Then laughter began to peal, filling the small courtyard garden and his mind with the sound. Now he was not just uncomfortable but confused – perhaps she had become unhinged with his frankness? Caspian certainly hoped not, it hadn't been his intention to hurt Susan in any way, shape or form, for he quite cared for her. In his own way Caspian was worried about the fact that she had become so much the focus of his thoughts and his day, because it wasn't something he felt was right or fair to her.

Waving a hand around while the other was held over her mouth, "Cas… Cas… Cas.." she doubled over again like she were trying to catch her breath, "Caspian! Oh you silly, silly dear man!"

"Susie?" not understanding, Caspian tried to assist how he could, taking hold of her by the elbows he supported her, not wanting her to fall over. If he had thought she would become hysterical, he would have thought his words over with greater care.

Before he could question her further, "I was teasing you!" Thumb and forefinger went to his chin as she gave him a light pinch, "You're just too sweet for words sometimes Ten."

Bewildered, "I do not understand…"

"Oh dear I've confused you, haven't I?" shaking her head. "Well then, I was only trying to distract you from the fact of our location," jerking her chin at the garden, and Caspian suddenly noticed that they were on fully open ground, "so that I could get you back indoors where you feel safer. That's all. And you silly wonderful man, you thought I was actually complaining?"

"Yes, well, I, ah…"

"And so earnest, so polite about it…" the glow was back in her face, and Caspian was more entranced by it than usual, already discomforted and thrown off balance by the events of the last few minutes and he didn't notice that he was leaning down, closing the distance between them, "and trust me I understand your reasons." She grew serious, and Caspian could feel her hand, feel it pressed into the center of his chest, the pressure reassuring, "Your state of mind as a whole Caspian is the only reason _I_ haven't done anything. I wouldn't want to risk hurting you for the world."

Brought up short, Caspian flushed, finally registering how close he had come to kissing her, and not in the fashion she had kissed him before. No, he had been on the verge of kissing her as a man kisses a woman to declare his intentions, while every press of her mouth to him had been the sort that a woman gives to a man to comfort him. At least, most of the time that was the sort she had given him, a time or two she had kissed him in that way that meant she was taking comfort from it for herself rather than giving it.

"I do not think you could hurt me," keeping his voice low, "you are not the sort of woman to hurt anyone."

To that she looked away, a hint of shame tinting her cheeks, "Maybe that's how I used to be, and how I'm trying to be again. But Caspian, you don't really know me. You don't know the horrid sort woman I was for far too long… Of how I hurt those I loved…"

"Your actions now speak loudly," finishing closing the distance, brushing her forehead instead of her mouth with his, and there he left his lips as he continued speaking, giving her his support and trust, "in the end, all you have is the here and now and the future to show others how you are. The past… is the past."

It was convenient to forget that those words also applied to him.


	5. Chapter 5

XXX

Chapter Five

XXX

Tile slapped beneath his bare feet and Caspian ignored the other men around him. It was time for his shower, for which he was grateful – he hated the sensation of grit on his skin. The air of the hospital always left Caspian feeling like he had walked through a fog of dirt that couldn't be easily wiped away, and while it may have been simply his imagination, Caspian couldn't be sure. He had the distinct impression that if the dirt on his skin had formed from honest toil rather than inactivity he wouldn't mind it so much. But, again, the air was heavy, and pressed on him at all times, touching him with grimy fingers.

Moving through the 'locker room' Caspian turned a blind eye to the men in varying states of undress, checking his own towel with quick fingers out of habit. White tile was cold and slippery, and the small group shuffled forward into the much larger tiled room with its metal protuberances. In moments the room would fill with steam and the sound of water hitting bodies and floors, to trickle down drains. This was one thing Caspian didn't mind at all about the hospital – this washing room was absolute divinity. If only he could enjoy it with less company. One of the veterans he passed gave him a strange look, and it was no wonder that he did so. Caspian's body was covered in scars, not the thick white and pink mats that some of the other men bore, and not small brief ones either. Spider webs and thin lines were all over his forearms and chest, with the occasional ragged tear sitting like a badly drawn seam on his side or at his hip. Several stars puckered on his torso, one to the left of his navel, one below his right collarbone and the third below that. Even his legs weren't spared, beneath the dusting of dark hair on his calves were similar marks, but the grouping was much sparser. It was his back that had the least damage, as though he had gone his whole life taking his hurts and trials head first.

He thought that most of the scars came from bladed weapons, and the puckered stars from the heads of arrows and bolts. Possibly. Of course, Caspian couldn't be sure, but he could be sure of the fact that the others looked at him oddly for his markings. That they looked _down_ on him for such things. Things he couldn't remember.

As though to remind him of his place, "Damn dirty Gypsy," followed by the sound of thick phlegm hitting the floor.

Most of the vets didn't speak to him like that. In fact, most of them _feared_ him, but Caspian had yet to figure out the why of that. He assumed it was his Otherness. Then again there were the handful who felt that simply looking down their noses at him wasn't good enough. They had to rub his face in the fact that he didn't fit, and that they thought that that deserved their ire.

Caspian hadn't known what a Gypsy was, but had found out through reading. What little he had been able to piece together was that they were nomadic. And that they were tricksters, dishonest, thieves, and showmen of some sort. At least according to the literature he had found, something of that didn't set well with Caspian though. Letting the insult slide, because Caspian was fairly certain that he wasn't dishonest, a trickster of any sort, let alone a thief, and went about removing his towel and finding his place along the wall of showers.

"Say," one of the men moved to occupy the shower next to him, "how is it that a mud-skinned Gypsy got into the military?"

A muscle ticked in his jaw, but other than that, Caspian showed no sign of having heard the man. He knew they just wanted someone to be mad at, to blame for their infirmities and their inability to go integrate with normal society once more. As irritating as it was to be insulted, to Caspian, it was no real skin off his nose to let such meaningless words fall on his ears. With a flick of his wrist he turned the knobs and waited for the cascade to start, hiding his wince at the initial cool temperature as water burst from the showerhead. His stoicism only pushed his tormentors to further vitriol.

"Say, Howard," the one on his left said to one of the other patients, "didn't you say you thought you recognized him?" a thumb jerked towards Caspian.

"I think so," 'Howard' squinted, then nodded, "yeah, I sure did. But it's hard to remember. I think I saw him rubbing donkey shit all over himself so he could get darker."

Cruel laughter sounded from the two men, and the other veterans shifted around uncomfortably. No one was going to say anything, no one was going to draw any attention to themselves – and Caspian knew that if trouble started, that it would be he who suffered. And so he continued to ignore the Englishmen, rubbing his bar of soap between his palms vigorously, building up a heavy lather.

When Caspian didn't respond at all, other than to tip his head back, letting water flow over his face, and down his neck, the ribbing got worse.

"Now Bernard, I think I you may've been wrong," there was a snort.

"Oh?"

Caspian ran his soapy hands over his chest, continuing to ignore for all appearances the words being said. He was above all of it. Scrubbing his stomach, distantly focusing on the stream of water down his chest to watch it swirl around his feet, Caspian hoped the comments would stop soon. If it went beyond words someone was going to get seriously hurt. And it wouldn't be him, at least not until the orderlies came and sedated him. Then Dr. Carter or Dr. Anderson may take some sort of drastic measure with him – even though he would have done nothing more than defend himself.

"I think he may be a dirt grubbing dago."

More laughter, "You're right! He sure does look to be one of those greasy dagos. Say, didn't they say he's from Spain? Aren't they all potato farmers?"

A hand came out, pushing Caspian's shoulder, and he glanced out of the corner of his eye at Howard, "Hey, how do you like potato farming?"

Biting the inside of his cheek, Caspian did his best to keep his cool, "As I am not English, I would not know."

Well, he couldn't be faulted for sniping back when provoked.

"What?" it was a snarl, "Why you – it's you dumb dagos and the Irish who're all potato farmers! We're _Englishmen_, and we don't farm for potatoes…!"

Blinking at them mildly, Caspian continued washing himself, scrubbing the bar of soap under his arm, "Oh, as you all look the same to me, I did not know. My most sincere apologies. As I am nothing but a humble dirt grubber, my intelligence is rather limited." Turning, Caspian splashed water over himself, rinsing off some, "And my powers of observation leave much to be desired. All of you are so short, I thought perhaps the English and the Irish were one and the same as they are all leprechauns…"

Silence crashed down in the shower, all eyes pinning Caspian. His heart rate increased, but Caspian continued being calm. Showing any signs of concern, fear or anger would only incite an actual fight. The choice of phrase he'd used hadn't been very wise, and he _knew_ better than to bait the angry dissatisfied sort. But his wit had gotten the better of him, and now it wasn't only his two tormentors who looked at him with predatory eyes, but the rest of the Englishmen around him.

He kept staring at Howard and Bernard coldly, not acknowledging the danger he was in. In a fight frankly he could probably take out about half of the men unless they all ganged up on him at once in a mob. Which would be how it would go down, that is unless he could cow Howard and Bernard quickly. They were the head of the beast, a beast he'd prodded with his racist words, and it didn't matter at all that he wasn't the one who started it. No one cared that it was Bernard and Howards bigotry that was the source of the dispute, and not he.

Moving so that he could put his soap aside, Caspian stood loose, arms at hanging at his sides ready to come up to defend himself. Howard's face had gone beet red, and Caspian wondered what he was in for – the veteran looked fairly normal, he didn't even have a scar on him that was visible. But that meant nothing, often the worst wounds were internal not external. Bernard had come forward to stand beside Howard, and he had gone pasty in his anger, burn scars covering one side of his torso. Both men were relatively hale and hearty, but they held themselves poorly.

"You think you're funny, don't you dago?"

"As funny as you think yourself," neutral.

"A regular comedian, aren't you?"

He didn't deign to answer. There was nothing he could say that wouldn't be turned against him. Counting under his breath, Caspian waited, the tension had to break, and break soon – one way or another.

"Hey guys – you better leave me some hot water or I'll be steamed," Charley came in at what had to be the most opportune moment ever.

Never so relieved in his life for a man who was theoretically his rival, Caspian thought he could kiss the Welshman. Charley fancied himself Nurse Fisher's favorite, and as a rule of thumb ignored Caspian as though he bore some plague. Generally, Caspian was fine with this, who was he to care if someone thought Susan favored them over him? In truth he didn't care who she fancied the most, in the end her job was her job and she cared for everyone equally and appropriately. And if he kept telling himself that he may actually believe that he wasn't her favorite. Possibly. After a few centuries of repetition. But, nonetheless, Charley's presence broke the tension and the other men went back to their ablutions. That left Bernard and Howard still trying to stare him down. Quirking a brow at them, Caspian shrugged as though to say he were sorry for the interruption.

XXX

His coat was heavy and he liked it that way, for the frost in the air worked its way past the light day jacket of his uniform like it wasn't even there. Brushing off snow that clung to his handrail, Caspian made a place for himself, then slipped onto it, laying down the length. Off to the side Susan watched him, shaking her head.

"It's too cold out for you to do that, you really should go inside," hugging herself.

Tucking an arm under his head to pillow it, Caspian glanced over at her, "If you are chilled, you should go inside. As for me, I am fine, my coat protects me well enough."

"You know what?" he assumed it was a rhetorical question so he only continued looking at her intently, waiting, "I have no clue where you get those things from. Most of the others have family that sends them things in the mail or leave packages for them at the front desk at most. Your things just… show up in the mailroom with no sender listed. Just your name. It positively baffles me and I think it drives poor Mr. Temerson batty trying to figure out where it all comes from."

"It would be nice if whoever sends me these possessions would send me some more texts to read," digging in his pocket for his pack of cigarettes, "as I have exhausted the library of things that interest me for the most part. Perhaps I shall endeavor to learn another language? Spanish may be a good start."

She came closer to him, standing at his side so they were perpendicular, "Maybe it'll jog your memory if you do?"

"The thought had occurred to me, yes," nodding.

Caspian felt himself relax when Susan was near enough that she just barely touched the side of his arm, comforted by her presence. Cigarette in hand, Caspian clumsily lit it in his horizontal position, but managed. Taking a long drag and then moving his hand down so it would rest over his stomach he jerked in surprise when the stick of tobacco was plucked from his fingers. Somehow he contained his shock at seeing Nurse Fisher hold the cigarette to her lips and draw the smoke into her lungs deeply as she gave him a mischievous wink.

Blowing a jet of the grayish purple smoke from her lips, "It's been forever it seems."

"Forever? At your age, forever would be a week or two, would it not?"

To that she laughed, and he retrieved his smoke from her grasp, "You sound positively ancient when you talk like that. How old are you supposed to be – twenty-five or fifty-five?"

Nostrils flaring as his brow crinkled in thought, "I am twenty-two I am told."

They were quiet after that, and Caspian did wonder how old he may truly be. Some things seemed out of place, at times he thought there was no way it was possible he was a mere score and two years. He felt far older than that most days, as though the weight of decades sat upon his shoulders, dragging him down and lifting him up. Somewhere, somewhen Caspian remembered a saying, and the thought of it made him chuckle.

"What is it?" Susan gave him a gentle poke. "Are you having a laugh at my expense?"

Lips twitching, "Nay, more at mine than anything else."

"The please, share the mirth rather than keep it all to yourself."

"The young act so old, while the old act so young," shrugging, "it loses something in translation I think."

Susan finished his cigarette for him before flicking it out into the snow covered bushes, "It seems that way. I don't get it, so that must be the case."

Shifting, Caspian tried to put the idea into words, "The responsible youth looks to his elders, and asks why they don't act with more decorum. While the elders look to the youth and say that life is short and that it must be made fun of."

That elicited a giggle, "It's short? So make fun of it? I think I like that…"

"Yes," smiling in turn, Caspian swung his legs around on the ledge, putting his back to Susan, "I thought you might."

Arms came around his midsection, surprising him again with the familiarity of the gesture, "But I think I understand. The elders know that too much seriousness makes life not worthwhile, even though they're fully capable of it, while the youth has yet to realize what life is all about." Her cheek pressed between his shoulder blades, and Caspian lay his hands over the small pale ones that were bunched in his coat, "It's like learning to stop and smell the roses, to take a beautiful precious moment and value it. There aren't many of them in life, so enjoy them rather than waste them with being constantly productive."

"You have the right of it I believe," giving Susan's cold hands a squeeze, trying to warm them up.

Quiet descended on them as it often did, and as it often was, it was of a peaceful sort. But Caspian didn't want the young nurse to catch a chill, she wasn't dressed for the weather. With a heartfelt sigh, Caspian leaned back into her arms, not wanting to cut the moment short. Yet he knew he must.

As though she knew what he was going to do, Susan stopped him, "Stop and smell the roses Caspian, just a moment longer," whispering, the warmth of her breath seeping through the layers of his coat.

"They do smell ever so sweet," voice low, Caspian stared down at the pink knuckles of her hands, the stark contrast of his dark skin next to hers. The flash of heat he felt go through his body wasn't entirely bashful embarrassment, but mostly the low thrum of male desire – he wanted to envision what the rest of her pale flesh would look like mixed with his. "But like poppies," forcing the words out, and his eyes closed, "the scent can be intoxicatingly dangerous to the unwary."

"And must you always be so wary?" she was shivering, and Caspian knew they'd been in the cold too long for her.

He discarded the idea that the trembling could be for any other reason, "Life is also a fine balance, not just a series of moments Susie."

"What happened to there only being the here and now?" coming out somewhere between hurt and accusatory.

Wincing, Caspian hung his head, "I only meant…" trailing off, he knew when he was beat. There was nothing he could say to salvage the moment, but there was plenty he could do. If he could only forget his honour for a second. Turning with some difficulty, Caspian reached for Susan even as she backed away, "Susie, I cannot explain sufficiently, words fail at times."

"You're good with words Caspian," it was curt, and she wasn't looking at him.

Yes, he was most certainly good with words. Using them for weapons, for diplomacy, manipulation. Words were just as powerful as any physical tool if used properly. And Caspian knew how good he was with them. So did Susan, she'd received the gentle cuts and the firm support.

"Susan," slipping up, desperate, forgetting himself, "please, come here," holding his hands out to her.

"I told you, I don't like that name," as close to snapping at him as she ever had been.

Before he could say anything more, Susan spun on her heel, and stalked off.

XXXX

"I say – Susan Pevensie?" it was obnoxious. "Susan Pevensie? Oh come now old girl," the voice was so heavy handed, so over the top upper class, that Caspian cringed, "it's me!"

"Keith?" surprise and shock registered in Caspian's ears, Susan's voice sharp edged.

Without thought Caspian picked up his pace, turning the corner swiftly. In the hall there was Nurse Fisher, no – Susan Pevensie – and a young man in a tweed jacket, khaki shorts and knee socks of some sort. All in all he looked imbecilic to Caspian, but the height of genteel leisure to others he supposed. It was most disturbing, the bolt of emotion Caspian felt as he watched the man 'Keith' grasp Susan's elbow as though it were natural for him to lay hands upon her.

The two didn't appear to notice Caspian until the last moment, when his tall frame cast a shadow upon them, his tone slicing through the air, "Is this person bothering you?"

Caspian didn't say her name, one way or another, deciding to protect Susan. If she didn't go by 'Susan Pevensie' in the hospital, then the man before him could be a threat to her anonymity. That wouldn't do at all. Even if Caspian was glad to know her true name, some hidden inner bonds loosened at putting real name to Susan's face.

"And who might _you_ be?" Keith had to tilt his head back to look into Caspian's face, gray eyes bloodshot around the edges, small blood vessels having broken throughout his skin giving his face a permanently flushed look.

Answering for Caspian, "A good friend." Susan's expression was beseeching, begging for no confrontation, "Keith Avery, I'd like you to meet Ten. And Ten, this is Keith." Clarifying, "He and my brother Peter went to school together."

Holding out his left hand to be shaken, "A pleasure Mister Avery," which forced Keith to relinquish Susan's elbow if he didn't wish to make a scene as he had been maintaining a firm hold on her with his own left hand.

"As well Mister… Ten?" the hand clasp was forceful, the shorter man trying to crush Caspian's fingers in his grip. "That's a strange name."

"Most English tongues cannot seem to pronounce the proper version of his name," Susan slid in glibly, the lie sounding at least somewhat plausible.

If one didn't take into account the multitude of Welsh, Irish and Scot names that abounded amongst the English populace. Caspian knew the maps relatively well, but he had tripped over so many names that at some point he'd given up.

"Ah," still squeezing Caspian's hand, "I say that must be one strange name. Then again, I do believe I detect an accent old boy. Where are you from?"

"Spain," answering by rote, not giving into the urge to truly crush Keith Avery's hand with his. There wasn't enough strength in the man's hand to do Caspian any damage, because Caspian had a habit of squeezing things until they shattered, broke, or splattered. It was a strange thing that he'd done for quite some time, recalling that having strong wrists and forearms was part of his nature. "After having spent a time in Argentina."

"Oh?" Caspian only just saw Susan's wince, and didn't understand it or Keith's interest. Not until, "I've spent some time in Spain. Quite a bit of it actually. My Spanish may be a bit rusty, but let me just try this, I'm sure it'd be nice for you to hear a bit of your own language. **::Translate!::** You do not convince me at all, you are a liar. **::Translate!::**"

"Keith took a trip for the running of the bulls in Pamplona," Susan stepped in, preventing Caspian from answering, and covering up the fact that he hadn't had a clue what Keith had said. Though the gleam in his eye was clue enough for Caspian. "Isn't that right Keith?"

"Yes it is," lips twitching. "I think this year you should come with me Susan, this place… isn't your style," giving Caspian a once over, then grimacing at Susan's uniform, "It's such a step down for you here."

Not liking the proprietary and predatory way Keith kept looking at Susan, "And Pamplona would not be? England is vastly superior to Spain since the civil war," flying by the seat of his pants, Caspian lied through his teeth, spitting out the propaganda he'd read in the newspapers. "With Franco in power, why in God's name would you want to go there? No, Susan," glancing at her before glowering at Keith, "Spain is no place for a lady of your stature. It is now only filled with those who will seek to take advantage of you at every turn."

"No wonder you're here rather than there," Keith nodded sagely, as though he actually agreed, seeming taken aback by Caspian's wave of information, "you make it sound like such a nasty place."

"Keith," preventing a full on confrontation, "I do have work to do, really I do."

Snorting derisively, "Truly Susan? Have you fallen so low? Come now, why don't you call upon me sometime, we can reminisce about old times. We're friends after all…" Shaking his head, "You needn't lower yourself so much as to work amongst…"

"Veterans?" smiling, though it wasn't a smile that was pleasant, Caspian said non-chalantly. "And where did you serve Mister Avery?"

"I could ask the same of you," drawing himself up, "But no. What I was going to say, was working with nothing but common soldiers. I served King and Country happily."

"Enough, please," desperate, and Caspian felt himself bowing to Susan's distress, "boys, I have things I must attend to. Keith, I'll talk to you later at some point. Ten, were you sent to get me?"

Picking up on the excuse readily, "Yes, my apologies, I am remiss. Dr. Anderson wished to speak with you." Inclining his head to Keith perfunctorily, "Good afternoon Mister Avery, it was a pleasure to meet you."

"And you as well," ground out between teeth, and Caspian had a feeling that he'd be seeing Keith Avery again at some point.

All but hauling Caspian off, Susan kept her arm threaded through his, her pace just short of frantic. He didn't say a word, just kept up, waiting her out. She'd tell him what she would when she decided to, and prompting would only agitate Susan further. But now he had more questions than he had before. At least when it came to Susan he had a source for answers.


End file.
